Demon Called Deception
by Pirate Gyrl
Summary: Something unexpected occurs. Old enemies resurface. Something that was forgotten calls out to be found. 3rd in the "Sui Generis" saga. If you haven't read the first 2, i suggest you do so before reading this one!
1. Trying Times

**AN:**  Welcome one and all to the newest installment in the Sui Generis story arc.  First, I must explain that this chapter takes place two years after Silver and gold.  I hope you all enjoy it.  It took me so long to write it! 

_"It's not death if you refuse it."_

_Eric Draven; The Crow:  Stairway to Heaven_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter One:  Trying Times**

The storm topside fought against the ship.  The wind whipped at the canvas of the sails even though they had been lowered.  The ship pulled at the anchor that lay embedded in the ocean floor.  The wooden deck beneath Jack Sparrow's feet twisted and turned, shaking from side to side.

Jack tugged on one more rope, making sure it was secure, and then headed down below the deck.  He could hear the loud cries of a woman in pain filtering out through a thin wooden door.  He threw the door open, almost hitting Gibbs as he entered.

"Good Lord Cap'n!  You needed ta be down here!" Gibbs cried.

Jack gripped his shoulder.  "What's goin' on?"

Gibbs stopped him from walking up to the small bed, staring gravely into Jack's eyes.  "It's takin' a turn fer the worse, sir."

Jack's eyes widened slightly.  "Lor?"

"AnaMaria's not sure she's gonna make it."

Jack pushed past Gibbs, making his way quickly up to Lor's side.  His hand gripped hers tightly causing her to open her golden, pain-filled eyes.  "Jack," she whispered between gasps.

"Hold on love," he said gruffly.

Lor smiled weakly as AnaMaria told her to push.  "One's comin' lass," AnaMaria cried.  "Push harder!"

Minutes went by like hours as Jack continued to stare down into Lor's eyes.  "It'll be all right, love."

"She's out!" AnaMaria said.  "Gibbs, come take 'er.  Keep 'er warm."

"Wait," Jack called.  "Let me see her."

"No Jack, stay with Lor.  Gibbs can take care of 'er."

"I want to see my daughter woman."

"Goddammit Jack!  You need to stay by your lover's side.  She needs you more than your child does.  Stay with her, keep her with you."

Jack looked down as Lor cried out in pain again, her hand crushing his.  "Two more pushes, lass, an' then it'll be over."

"Yes," Lor whispered, her body slick with sweat.  "It'll be over."

Jack gazed down into Lor's eyes.  He didn't like the way she was talking.  There was something in her voice that scared him, something that seemed off to him.  "Stay with me, love."

A loud cry issued forth as the second child was born.  AnaMaria looked up at him as she took the child away, wrapping her in a thick blanket.  "Jack?" a soft voice called.

Jack looked down, his hand tightening on Lor's.  "Aye, love?"

"It begins again, my love," she whispered.  "Protect them.  Keep them away from the ocean.  If they hit water, it will find them.  Don't let them repeat my life," she finished, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Shh, love.  It'll be okay.  They'll be fine, an' so will you," Jack replied, kissing her softly.

"No, Jack, no.  You know the tale, the mother does not survive.  There can only be one Guardian, one Protector."

"We'll beat that, love.  I promise you, you will make it."

Lor's free hand slowly rose; caressing Jack's tanned face and running her fingers through his hair.  "Forgive me Jack," she murmured.  "I . . . I love you."

Jack looked down at his hand as her grip loosened suddenly and slipped through his fingers.  Her eyes closed slowly, tears still streaming down her cheeks.  "Lor?" Jack whispered, tracing the outline of her face with his fingertips.  His eyes narrowed slightly when he received no response.

Jack buried his head on her stomach, whispering, "I love you, my horizon."

-----------------

Gibbs looked up from the two children that he was currently helping AnaMaria with.  He watched as Jack buried his head on Lor's stomach, hiding his face.  When he started to go over to Jack, AnaMaria stopped him.  "No, Gibbs, leave him.  He needs to grieve for his loss.  Allow him this time."

-----------------

Jack Sparrow stood on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, holding the small form of his week old daughter.  His finger traced along her small, chubby cheek, causing her to yawn widely and close her eyes.

AnaMaria and Gibbs stood just behind him, AnaMaria holding the twin to his perfect child.  Another one of his crew stood before him, wrapping a thick blanket into the small boat in front of him.  Shift was his name, a man who had only recently joined the crew of the _Black Pearl_, but someone who Jack trusted.

"Jack?  Cap'n?  Are ye sure ye want to do this?" AnaMaria asked as she bounced the child in her arms.

Jack looked up from his daughter to look back at AnaMaria.  "Aye, love.  I have to."

"But, sir," Gibbs started.  "Didn't Miss Lor ask you to . . .?"

"And this is the only way I can, Mr. Gibbs," Jack answered gruffly, although they could hear his voice crack a little.  "She asked me to protect them, but she also asked me to keep them out of the water."

"But, sir, to do it this way . . ."

"This is hard enough for me, Mr. Gibbs without you telling me that it is wrong!" Jack snapped.  "I do what I must whether or not it is right."

"But, separating them Jack?"

"Lor was right," Jack said, his voice softening at her name.  "They shouldn't have to live her life.  If I can keep them apart, there is less of a chance of everything happening again."

"Are you ready Cap'n?" Shift interrupted, staring over at the other three pirates.  "Everythin's in order."

Jack turned to Shift slowly, his eyes once again making their way down to the small child in his arms.  He nodded slightly and held the little girl up to his face.  The girl yawned again and stuck her small fist in her mouth.  Jack kissed the little girls cheek and then looked into her bright blue eyes.  "My little Em," he whispered.  "Be well and know always that I love you.  So does your mother, wherever she may be."

Shift took the young girl as she was offered to him and sat slowly down in the small boat.  Two men started to lower Shift and the boat down slowly into the water.  "Mr. Shift?" Jack called when the boat was halfway down.  "Take care of 'er, lad.  Keep 'er safe."

Shift merely nodded, placing the small child in the basket on the other side of the boat and picked up the oars, rowing away from the ship.  Jack turned around quickly, turning his attention away from the man taking his daughter away.

He took his other daughter from AnaMaria and walked slowly away into his cabin, shutting the door to the outside world.  AnaMaria and Gibbs looked at each other for a moment and then set about doing their daily chores, AnaMaria taking Jack's usual position at the helm

-----------------

Will Turner sat down heavily on the soft bed, sighing.  He kicked his shoes off slowly, allowing them to drop onto the thick wooden floor with a clunk.  "Will?" Elizabeth whispered groggily, her voice still filled with sleep.

"Yes, my love," he replied, un-tucking his white shirt and laying back on the bed, his head and neck landing on her legs.

Elizabeth sat up slowly.  "Is everything all right?  You seem upset."

"No.  I'm fine.  Just tired."

"Come to bed then, darling.  A good night's sleep will do you well."

Will sat up slowly and crawled under the covers, not bothering to get undressed.  He blew out the candle and rolled over onto his back.  Elizabeth started to roll over to lay her head on his chest, but stopped.  "Will?"

"Hmm?"

"There's someone here."

Will bolted up in bed quickly, his hand reaching for the candle holder on the nightstand by his bed.  The dark figure that stood framed in the window held up his hands slowly, revealing a small wriggling satchel hung across his chest.  "Easy, lad, it's just me."

"Jack?" Will called.

"Aye, lad," Jack replied, stepping through the window and into the room.

"It's a little late, isn't it Jack?" Elizabeth asked, reaching over Will and lighting the small candle.

"I know, sorry, love," he said, sitting on the window sill.

"The children will be happy to see you," Will said softly, looking over his friend.  Jack seemed different to him.  He seemed calmer, less insane than usual.

Jack shook his head.  "I can't stay.  I only wanted to ask you a favor."

"Anything Jack, you know that."

Jack untied the satchel from over his shoulder and set it down softly on his lap.  He un-wrapped the bundle slowly, keeping part of the blanket wrapped around the small form.  Will looked over at Elizabeth, his eyebrows rising slightly.

A soft cry came from the bundle, causing Elizabeth to jerk her head up.  "Jack?" she whispered.

Jack lifted his head slightly, shaking his head.  "I need you to take care of something."

Elizabeth stood up and walked over to him slowly, unsure as to what she would find wrapped in the blanket.  As soon as she came near it, the small form gurgled softly.  "Jack, it's a baby!" she cried.

"Aye, lass, that she is."

Will walked up next to his wife as she leaned over to pick up the small child.  Elizabeth cradled the girl to her chest, gazing down at the girl's pudgy face.  "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Jack replied softly.

Will's eyes narrowed again.  "Is she yours, Jack?"

"Aye, lad, last time I checked," Jack said, trying to muster up a small smile.

"She looks like you," Elizabeth said, smiling.

"An' much like Lor," Jack whispered.

"Lor?" Will asked.  "Where is she?"

Jack looked away, his eyes growing distant.  "Gone."

"She left?" Elizabeth asked.  "That doesn't seem like her."

Jack shook his head.  "She didn't leave."

Will looked down at him, confused, until it finally dawned on him.  "Jack . . . I'm sorry.  We didn't know."

"Couldn'ta stopped it, mate," Jack said softly.  "An' she knew it," he paused slightly, looking up at the small child held in Elizabeth's arms.  "I need you to take care or 'er, to raise 'er."

"But, Jack, why?" Elizabeth questioned.

"A promise I made.  A promise that I made to Lor.  I 'ave ta protect 'er."

"But giving her up . . ." Will began.

"I've already heard enough of it from Gibbs an' AnaMaria, lad.  I don't need to hear it from you.  And yes, this is the only way to protect 'er.  I'm doin' what Lor told me ta do."

"For how long, Jack?"

Jack shrugged as he stood up, his finger trailing down the little girl's cheek.  "I don't know, but she has to stay here.  Raise her as yer own, never let 'er know who she is.  I don't want her relivin' her mother's life," he paused for a moment, staring down into the girl's blue eyes.  "I can't explain it right now, maybe later when the time is right," he paused again, his eyes finding their way to meet Elizabeth's.

"Jack," Will whispered.

Jack turned to Will, his eyes filled with sadness.  "Do this for me, Will, please.  I don't know who else to give 'er to."

Will looked at Jack, and then over at Elizabeth.  Elizabeth looked down at the baby that was slowly falling asleep in her arms and then back at Will and nodded slightly.  He placed his hand on Jack's shoulder.  "Of course, Jack, anything you need."

Jack nodded slightly and, with one last loving caress to his daughter, turned away and started to climb back out of the bedroom window.  "Jack, wait," Elizabeth called.  "What is her name?"

Jack turned to look over his shoulder.  "Rebecca," he whispered, and then jumped out of the window, disappearing into the dark night.

-----------------

**Up next!  Chapter Two:  Mysteries Begin.  **


	2. Mysteries Begin

**AN:** Wow. So many of you were sad because of the last chapter. Part of my is actually happy that you are because it's so good to know that my writing can cause such emotions. All of you probably hate me now because of the last chapter. I need to explain why I did what I did. Killing Lor was the only way I would be able to make the rest of the story work. It was the only way I could continue the story line. I promise that by the end of this story, you will have forgiven me. It gets so much better soon! I swear to you!

PS: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter: Congratulations to PineAppleLint for winning my short story contest!

_"Someone has to die in order that the rest of us value life more."_

_Nicole Kidman; The Hours_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Two: Mysteries Begin**

Nineteen-year-old Rebecca Turner ran through the dusty streets of Port Royal, her long skirts rustling around her legs. The dust on the streets stirred as her feet hit the ground, floating up in waves. Her hat had long since flown off of her head, and now she clutched it tightly in her fist. "Oh, they are going to kill me!" she said through gasps of breath.

Her parents had told her to be home by noon, as they were expecting a special visitor. Now, it was currently thirty minutes after noon, the sun beating down on her from above. "They are going to kill me!"

-----------------

Jack Sparrow sat silently in the living room of the Turner household, his fingers steepled at his mouth. His dark brown hair still hung beaded and braided, trapped underneath a simple, faded red bandana. He still wore his weapons belt, although currently the weapons were tucked away in a corner of the room. He still carried with him the compass that had taken him to the cursed gold. His teeth were still gold when he flashed his trademark smile.

He had not changed much in twenty years because he, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, was untouched by time.

Jack realized this more and more as the years passed, as people around him aged while he did not. He stayed exactly the same as he had been twenty years ago. He realized this even more now as he stared over at the couple that sat across from him.

Will and Elizabeth Turner, both barely into their forties, looked back at him, smiles on their faces. The corners of their eyes were really the only parts of them that showed their ages. The corners of their eyes were slightly wrinkled, especially when they smiled.

"You look good Jack," Will said, breaking the silence. "Piracy is still working for you apparently."

Jack smiled beneath his fingers. "Aye," he replied, "as always."

Elizabeth cleared her throat slightly. "Emily should be here shortly. She and William were having lunch with James, her husband."

"Ah, an' how is young William?"

"Growing too fast for his own good," a new, feminine voice replied.

The three friends turned to look at the new arrival, a woman holding the hand of a small boy while attempting to untie the ribbons of her hat.

"Emily! Darling!" Jack cried standing up quickly, his arms opened wide.

"Good afternoon Uncle Jack," Emily replied, smiling and giving Jack a one-handed hug. "It is good to see you again. It has been ages," she turned slowly to her parents. "Mother, father."

"Aye, lass, been busy," Jack said, grinning. He ruffled the young boy's hair slightly, saying. "Now, where is Alex? And Michel?"

"Alex had a meeting with Commodore Thomson in the fort with the other lieutenants," Elizabeth replied.

"Michel is at the smithy. He had an order to complete, but should be home later this evening."

"An' Rebecca?"

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. "We told her to be home half an hour ago. God knows where she is or when she will be home."

"Good," Jack answered, sitting back down. "I have something I need to discuss with you before she arrives."

"Another adventure Uncle Jack?"

"Not unless you want it ta be, love," he answered. "No, actually I need you ta be able ta accept company on the night of Rebecca's birthday."

"My husband will be here, Uncle. It would pose quite a problem if he were to meet you. You are not exactly on the Navy's Christmas list."

Jack smirked. "I take it ya still 'aven't told 'im about me?"

"It is very difficult to tell an officer of the Royal Navy that your uncle is a pirate," Emily replied calmly, picking up her son when he attempted to climb off of her lap.

Jack laughed. "Aye, lass, that it be. But, we'll figure somethin' out."

"Are you the company we will be expecting Jack?" Will asked.

"Aye. I'll be one of 'em."

"And the other?" Elizabeth asked.

"That, I can't tell ya," Jack replied with a grin. "'Tis a surprise."

"Your surprises do not always come with good news Jack," Will said, clutching his wife's hand.

Jack grinned over at him. "No, not usually, but this one will. That I promise ya."

"You are not going on another quest, Jack, are you?" Emily asked wincing as her son pulled at her hair.

"No. Jus' figured it's about time ya met someone. Someone important."

"Who?" Elizabeth asked.

Will's eyebrows rose slightly. "A new woman Jack?" he joked.

Jack's eyes darkened momentarily. "No," he whispered, a half-hearted grin flickering over his face.

"Then who?" Emily asked, bouncing William on her knee.

Jack smirked. "You'll see."

-----------------

**AN:** Sorry this chapter was so short. I just couldn't figure out anything else to put in it. Plus, this was the best place to end it considering what will happen in the next chapter! See you then!

**Up Next! Chapter Three: Captain Emory Wyatt.** Who was it that Jack wanted them to meet? And why is it so important that they meet them on Rebecca's birthday? Find out next time!

**Mystery GYRL: **Thanks!

**Dawnie****-7: **Thank you very much! I'm glad that you liked it! I almost cried writing it myself, so I understand exactly what you mean when you were saddened by what happened. Hope you like this chapter as well!

**NazgulGirl****: **Thank you very much!

**DaydreamBeliever14****: **Yeah, I wish it hadn't had to happen either, but, it did. And you'll find out completely why in later chapters!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I'm glad you refuse it. I was wondering if anyone actually read those quotes anymore. I'm glad that you liked it and I hope you keep reading!


	3. Captain Emory Wyatt

**AN: **I'm so happy that so many of you have taken a liking to this story. I was so worried! I know all of you wanted to know who the mystery guest was that Jack wanted them to meet, and now, you will! Here she is, the mystery guest! I hope all of you like her character!

_"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."_

_Kevin Spacey; The Usual Suspects_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Three: Captain Emory Wyatt**

Emory Wyatt entered the busy tavern, her boot heels clicking on the dusty floor. The _El Pirata y El Perico _had become a bustling tavern in the last fifteen years. Of course, she had been a loyal customer for the last five years, having known the patrons since she was a child.

Emory could feel the eyes of several men looking her over, most of them probably undressing her with their eyes. She smirked, looking down at the outfit that she wore. Her red shirt hung partly off of her shoulders, supported by the loosely tied black stomacher that she wore. Her black breeches hung loosely at her hips, revealing to the world the small tattoo of a skull and crossed bones on her hip. Her black boots were up to her knees, hiding the two daggers strapped to her shins.

Emory gave a mock salute to one of her crew that she spotted sitting among the crowd, a woman sitting on his lap. He lifted his mug of rum to her, acknowledging her. A shrill whistle caught her attention, causing her to look away from her comrade. A smile crossed her face as her eyes noticed the owner of the tavern gesturing at her, telling her to come to him.

"Evenin' lass," he said loudly as soon as she neared him. "Someone 'ere ta see ya. 'E's been askin' about ya all night."

The smile fell from her lips quickly, her eyes narrowing. "Who?"

He pointed to a corner across the room, nodding his head slightly. "Man in the corner. Red bandana. 'E's been waitin' awhile."

Emory turned away from him, her eyes searching the room until she found the man he was pointing at. "Thanks," she muttered, pushing away from the bar and walking purposefully towards the mystery man.

He sat, playing a game of poker with three other men, and by the looks of it, he was winning. Piles of silver and gold sat stacked in front of him, flickering in the lamp-light.

Emory stopped in back of one of the men, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes looked into the face of the man sitting before her. One of the other men looked up and jumped slightly, his eyes widening. She jerked her head up quickly. The man understood the message immediately, grabbing what little money he had left and scrambled away, the other two men quickly following suit. Emory had become the type of person everyone knew never to mess with if they valued their lives. She wasn't one to play around with.

Emory turned a chair around and sat in it backwards, resting her arms on the back of the chair. She stared into the face of this mystery man as he counted his winnings, a grin creeping over his face. He looked up at her and then at the two empty seats next to him.

"Ya sure know 'ow ta empty a room lass."

Emory shrugged. "They know me."

"'M sure they do."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is there something ya wanted Mr. . . ."

His eyes brightened as a grin lit his face. "Captain. Captain Sparrow."

"I don't appreciate being stalked, Captain Sparrow."

"Wasn't stalkin' ya love," he replied, sliding his money into his money pouch. "Jus' have a proposition fer ya."

Emory looked over at him. She had this odd feeling that she had met him before, but she couldn't figure out where. She flipped a hand at him. "Go on."

"There's someone I want ya ta meet. I need ya ta meet me in Port Royal in two weeks."

"Why?"

"Ye'll find out when ya get there."

"I never said I would go."

"Ah," he replied, "but ya will. The prospect of sneakin' into Port Royal appeals ta any pirate. I should know. I do it at least twice a year," he shrugged. "'Sides, it's under new management. The new commodore isn't as bright as the ol' one."

Emory stared into his laughing eyes. was he insane? Why would she honestly want to risk her life and the life of her crew to break into a heavily guarded port?

On the other hand, it could be fun.

She smirked over at him. "We 'ave an accord," she answered.

Sparrow grinned back at her. "Aye. We 'ave an accord," he replied, sticking out his hand. Emory took it, shaking his hand quickly.

-----------------

"Ya think it's wise Cap'n?"

"What?"

"Trustin' this bloke claimin' ta be Cap'n Sparrow."

"Are ya questionin' me, Mr. Conway?" Emory asked, sliding down further in her high backed chair.

Conway shook his head. "'Course not Cap'n. Ya know I wouldn't."

"Then why're ya askin' me these questions?"

"Ya said the man ya talked to was young. Maybe ten years older than yerself."

"Aye," Emory replied, nodding slowly.

"The Sparrow I've 'eard of would be near on sixty by now. 'E can't be _the _Cap'n Sparrow," Conway insisted.

Emory shrugged. "Maybe 'e's 'is son."

He shook his head. "Hasn't got one. Or so the rumors go."

Emory stared up into Conway's eyes, her own odd eyes flickering. He had a point and she understood his concerns. She could easily be leading her crew into a trap. Her eyes narrowed. And yet, for some reason, she felt she could trust this man claiming to be Captain Sparrow.

And now they were sailing toward Port Royal, questions coursing through her mind as to who she was supposed to meet. Emory was confused and she didn't like to feel that way. She always liked to feel in control of a situation. Hell, she was captain after all.

"I understand yer concerns Mr. Conway, but I have to go. There's . . . somethin' callin' ta me," she shook her head slowly, the tangles of her red-black hair waving. "'Sides, 'e's made me curious. Ya know 'ow I get when I'm curious," she finished, a grin crossing her face.

Conway stared down at his captain, watching as her eyes brightened. He found her grin catching and allowed a smile to cross his own face. "Aye, lass, I know 'ow ya get."

Emory nodded, grabbing hold of two bottles of rum, holding one out to Conway. His grin widened, gratefully accepting her offer.

-----------------

"Thomas, you should get back to the fort. Commodore Thomson will begin to wonder where you are."

"Commodore Thomson can wait. Right now I am spending time with the woman I love."

"Thomas," the girl replied, playfully shoving his shoulder.

Thomas grabbed hold of her hand, kissing the top of it lightly. "Are you trying to push me away Miss Rebecca? Are you trying to make way for your other lover?"

Rebecca laughed, kissing him gently. "Oh, Thomas, you know I would never do that to you. It is just that neither of our parents know of us."

"It is not as if they would disapprove," he replied. "Besides, I have a question I need to ask you."

Rebecca's eyes widened as she waited for him to speak. She gazed up lovingly into his eyes, hoping against hope that he would ask her the one question she had longed to hear for the past year.

"Rebecca, I . . ." he began.

Thomas' words were cut off as a dull boom echoed from the port, followed closely by another boom, this one louder, closer. In all of her now twenty years, Rebecca had never heard a sound more terrifying.

-----------------

Elizabeth couldn't believe this was happening. Not again after so many years of living peacefully in Port Royal. Now here it was again, nearly dark, the sun having just set. Canons fired around her, blasting bright fire into the dark night.

"Not again," she whispered.

Everything led to one conclusion. Pirates.

-----------------

A loud thumping roused Emory from a light slumber. "What?" she cried grumpily. Could she never get any sleep?

"Cap'n. Port Royal dead ahead," a female voice said.

Emory opened her eyes to see Destiny standing in her doorway. Destiny was one of three of Emory's female crew, one of the best fighters and pirates she had ever met. She'd never met a man that Destiny couldn't beat.

Emory gazed into Destiny's dark eyes. there was more she wasn't saying. "What is it?" she asked, sitting up slowly, propping herself up on her elbows.

"There's somethin' else Cap'n," Destiny replied hesitantly. "But ya ain't gonna like it."

----------------

**Up Next! Chapter Four: Pirates Again. **What's gonna happen next? Who is it that's attacking Port Royal this time? What will Emory and Company do? Where are Jack and the rest? Find out next time!

**DaydreamBeliever14: **I hope you liked the chapter! I'm glad you're intrigued and I hope this satiated your intrigue! You'll learn more about her later!

**Dawnie-7: **Oh yes, everything will be revealed in later chapters. Of course, there were hints in Silver and Gold as to why he isn't aging, but . . . well . . . that's another matter! Hope you liked it!

**PineAppleLint: **I'm glad you liked it! And I am always honored to read your works! They're splendiferous! Absolutely amazing! Thanks for reading mine! P.S. How do you like Emory so far?

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Aw! Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! It seems everyone has so far. I'm so happy that everyone likes this story! By the way, I was hoping I could use that quote at one point in the story! I would greatly appreciate it!

**Mystery GYRL: **As many times as I have irritated you about this story, I'm surprised you still read it! Thanks!


	4. Pirates Again

**AN: **Before you read this chapter I must inform you all of one thing. Emory Wyatt is a darker character than any of the other ones in this story. She has had a darker life (which will all be explained in later chapters!) and is not as sweet and innocent as any of the others. She does have a lighter side, but she does not show it that often. She, like Jack, keeps most things to herself, although she does confide in her two best crew, Destiny and Conway. I hope all of you like her!

_"Sometimes in life you have to do more than just watch."_

_Joe Dawson; Highlander the Series_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Four: Pirates Again**

"We've done our fair share o' plunderin' lass," Conway said, dodging a swinging sword and then attacking his opponent, knocking the other pirate unconscious with one blow. "But this is jus' plain murder."

Emory didn't reply, merely slashed her own sword across her attackers throat. She wiped the bloody sword on her black breeches, scowling. She would kill that Captain Sparrow when she found him for bringing her into this mess. Of course, she didn't have to fight these fellow pirates. She could have just stayed in the safety of her ship and waited for this fight to be over.

Her scowl deepened, her black eye growing darker. But no, she had to go play 'good guy' and fight, taking her two best crew with her. Destiny and Conway walked through the port with her, fighting alongside her as they always did.

"Damn him and damn the agreement I made," she muttered, slicing through yet another pirate.

A scream lit the night, drawing Emory's attention to her right. A woman lay on the ground, a pirate on top of her, a dagger at her throat.

-----------------

"Shut up wench," the pirate grumbled, pressing the dagger deeper into the tender skin at her throat.

Elizabeth tried to move away from him, but found that she couldn't. The pirate had successfully pinned her down.

A sickening 'shunck' drew her attention down to where the point of a sword was sticking out of the pirate's chest. Elizabeth's gaze flicked to a woman standing above them.

The woman slashed the man across the back with another sword and then planted a booted heel in the middle of his back, pushing his limp form off of her sword, the body falling on top of Elizabeth. The woman savagely kicked at the pirate's body, rolling him off of Elizabeth.

"Bloody bastard. 'Ope 'e burns in 'ell," she grumbled.

Elizabeth stared up into the woman's odd eyes, eyes unlike any she had ever seen. One eye was the color of gold, the other the color of the blackest night. The woman stared down at her and then looked away, anger and disgust written on her face.

The woman began to walk away, but stopped when a man called to her. "Hold up Cap'n," he said, holding his hand out to Elizabeth. "Come, ma'am. You alright?"

Elizabeth looked up at him. For some reason, she got the feeling that she had met him before, but she could tell where. Hesitantly, Elizabeth took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Yes, I am fine. Thank you."

"Mr. Conway," the woman snapped. "We're leavin'."

Elizabeth stared hard at her. "Rebecca?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "What the bloody hell're you talkin' about?"

"Nothing. I must be mistaken. I'm sorry," Elizabeth said hurriedly.

"Whatever," she replied, wiping the blood once again off of her sword onto her black breeches. "We're leavin'," she said again, sheathing one of her swords.

Conway nodded, grabbing hold of Elizabeth's arm and pulling her along with them.

"What're ya doin' Conway?" the woman asked.

"Can't jus' leave 'er 'ere Cap'n. I'll watch 'er, don' worry."

"Whatever."

Conway smiled slightly. "She's not always like this, Mrs. Turner," he said softly.

Elizabeth blinked. "Do you know me?"

"Not really. 'Eard of you an' yer 'usband though," he replied.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, unsure as to whether or not she should believe him. This was turning into one odd pirate attack.

-----------------

"Cap'n! Look out!" Destiny screamed, throwing one off the daggers resting on her right thigh.

Emory shifted to her left, narrowly missing the dagger flying past her head, but didn't escape the bullet as it zoomed past. Emory hissed between her teeth as the small shot grazed her side, ripping through her skin and vest. The flaps of her vest swirled in the air as she moved.

Destiny's dagger embedded itself in the man's throat, killing him instantly.

"Move on," Emory said. "We're gonna find bloody Sparrow an' find out what the bloody 'ell 'e wanted."

"Sparrow?" Elizabeth asked, walking quickly next to the pirates that had saved her. "Do you mean Jack Sparrow?"

Destiny stopped to pull her dagger out of the man's throat. She smirked. "I think she knows somethin' Cap'n," she said.

Emory turned around quickly, wincing as she twisted the newly made wound. "You know him?"

"Yes, of course. He is a good friend of ours. The last time I checked, he was at our house celebrating our youngest daughter's birthday."

Emory stared at Elizabeth, her eyes growing darker, almost matching the night around them. "Then you will take us there," she replied menacingly.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Elizabeth shot back. "How do I know that you are not here to kill him?"

"You don't," Emory said simply.

"Cap'n! Behind ya!" Conway yelled before Elizabeth could respond.

The three women turned as one to stare up at a large man standing behind them, his beefy arm raised above his head, a large axe gripped tightly between his stubby fingers.

Before they could react, the pirate swung the axe down with enough force to cleave Emory in two, aiming straight for her left shoulder. Seconds before the weapon could strike her, when the axe hovered an inch away from her skin, the pirate stopped.

The pirate's arm dropped to his side, his face going slack. He turned away from them as a shrill whistle sounded in the air. Emory watched him go, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What the hell?" Destiny asked.

Emory's eyes watched the dozens of pirates walking slowly away from them toward the port, toward the dark silhouette of a ship resting just outside of the harbor. Her eyes caught hold of the ship-_icy fingers took hold of her heart, crushing it. Pain. Anger. Death._

Emory's hand went to her chest as she fell to her knees-_Anger. Pain. Death. Loss. Rebirth._-her breath coming in short gasps.

"Cap'n! Emory! Ya alright lass?" Conway asked, shaking her.

Emory didn't reply, her eyes glued to the dark ship. Her hands went to her ears as the shrill whistle moved to a shriek. A scream so loud it was as if a banshee had come to claim her victim.

"Cap'n! Snap out o' it!" Destiny cried, punching Emory.

Emory's gaze was turned forcefully away from the ship by the punch. The scream stopped soon after, as did the frozen hand gripping her heart. She looked up quickly, her gaze meeting that of her two crew.

"Cap'n? Ya alright?" Conway asked.

"Aye," Emory replied shakily, pushing away his helping hand and standing up. "C'mon. Let's move before they decide to come back," she said, pushing past them and grabbing hold of Elizabeth's arm.

"Show us where you live," she demanded gruffly, the scream still echoing in her ears.

-----------------

Will placed a table back in its rightful place beside a broken chair. Michel stood next to him, nursing a small wound on his hand. He watched as his father put everything meticulously back in order.

"I don't think it matters where you put anything father," he said quietly. "We'll just have to throw it out because it is broken."

"Or, we can fix it," Alex replied, grinning at his younger brother.

Michel grinned back, throwing his bloody towel at Alex. Alex ducked the cloth flying over his head. The towel flew through the air, hitting a man as he entered the room. The man blinked as the towel struck him in the chest and then fell to the floor. He glanced back up, one eyebrow arched.

"I do not understand how you can both be so calm while we have a pirate in our midst," he said.

Michel laughed. "Yes, well, we have housed a few pirates before."

"That is another matter completely," he answered drolly. "Do you know where Emily is? I have not seen her since the attack began."

Will looked up at his son-in-law, taking in his worried gaze. He had great respect for James Mathews. He was a good man, strong of will and spirit. Emily had chosen well.

"I'm fine James," Emily answered, entering the room carrying her young son inn one arm and a sword in the other. "I was putting William to bed when they attacked. He was frightened, so I stayed with him."

James took his wife in his arms, kissing her softly and then kissing his son. "Thank God."

"The problem is," Alex broke in, "is that I have never seen pirates act that way. Normally they would stay until the entire port is destroyed."

"AnaMaria said the ship appeared outta nowhere," Jack cut in, coming up behind Emily, pinching young William's cheek lightly. "Disappeared the same way."

"I don't understand Jack," Will said, sitting down in one of the unbroken chairs. "What did they want this time?"

Jack shrugged. "Who knows? But AnaMaria also said that another ship appeared before the firs' one vanished."

"Who was it?"

"Me," a new voice answered.

The group turned to the doorway, taking in the four people standing there. Elizabeth pushed past the three pirates standing in front of her, running to Will's side and wrapping her arms around his neck. A smile broke out on Jack's face.

"Good ta see ya could make it."

Emory's eyes flicked to him. "I should kill you fer this."

"Ya think I planned it?" Jack asked. "Ship showed up hours after I did."

"Rebecca?" Will asked, standing up, holding his wife's hand.

Emory shook her head. "Why do you people keep callin' me that? My name is not Rebecca, nor does it matter what my name is. What does matter is that you almost got me killed," she said, gesturing at Jack.

"Ya coulda stayed on yer ship, love," he replied, smirking.

"Whatever. Now what is it that you wanted me 'ere for?"

Before Jack could answer, two men ran into the room, both breathless.

"They've taken her!" one cried.

"Thomas?" Elizabeth asked.

"They've taken Rebecca!"

Emory paid no attention to him, her cold eyes turning to the other marine standing behind Thomas. Her eyes narrowed. The man's eyes widened slightly before a grin lit his lips.

"You," she said, her sword in her hand seconds later and pointing at his throat.

"Hello captain."

-----------------

**Up next! Chapter Five: Maps and Old Lovers. **Who was it that took Rebecca? Why did they take her? And who is it that Emory is threatening? How does she know him? From where does she know him and why does she dislike him? Check out next time!

**Dawnie-7: **I'm glad you like her! I hope you still like her after this chapter. Like I said, she is a little darker than my other characters, but she has had a hard life. She does have a lighter side, I promise!

**NazgulGirl: **I know, it is weird to think of an older Jack, but think of it. At least he's not aging. For now.

**Mystic Fish: **Yuck. School shopping. I hated having to do that. I'm glad I don't have to anymore. At least not until I have to buy my books for college. That costs so much more than people think it does. Anyway, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like it!


	5. Maps and Old Lovers

**AN: **Yay! Another chapter! Wow that took me awhile to write. The other three chapters came so easily, but this one was difficult. I had so much to put in it, but I didn't want to give away too much, otherwise it wouldn't be fun anymore! I hope you all like it!

**AN**** 2: Whenever you see the symbols (nnnnnnnnnnnn) it means it's a new scene! **

_"But Captain Jack will get you high tonight/ And take you to your special island/ Captain Jack will get you by tonight/ Just a little push 'n' you'll be smilin'/ La da da, Oh yeah, yeah"_

_Billy Joel; Captain Jack_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Five: Maps and Old Lovers**

"Tristan," Emory said.

"Captain," he replied.

"I should kill you," she seethed, the tip of her sword biting into the tender skin of his throat.

James' sword cleared his sheath moments later, pointing straight at Emory. Destiny withdrew two throwing knives, ready to use them should the need arise. Conway also withdrew his pistol, cocking it immediately. James was unconcerned by either of them.

"You will lower your weapon, miss," he demanded.

Tristan laughed. "Oh, yes, lower your weapon Emory."

Emory's eyes glinted. "I never said you could call me that again."

"I don't know," he replied. "I thought our last meeting ended a little better than the others."

"Yeah, with me throwing a knife at you," Destiny ground out, staring between her captain and the man in front of her.

"I said to lower your weapon," James repeated. "You are threatening the life of an officer in the Royal Navy."

Emory laughed. "An officer in the Royal Navy me ass! He's no more an officer than I am!"

Elizabeth looked at the group in front of her. She couldn't take it any more; she'd had enough of fighting for one night.

"Enough!" she cried. "Just stop! I can't take it anymore!"

The group turned to her, Emory's arm never faltering. Will wrapped one arm around her, pulling her to him.

"It is alright my love," he said.

Jack began to step forward when Elizabeth replied, "No, it's not! If what Thomas says is true, then pirates have taken another one of my children!"

She stopped and gasped, her hands covering her mouth. Her tear filled eyes turned to Jack, what seemed to be an apology flickering in them.

"Jack, I . . ."

Jack gave a weak smile, shaking his head slowly. "I think what we need to figure out now is who took 'er."

"The other ship that attacked was the pirate ship _The Devil's Shadow_," Tristan piped up, wincing slightly as Emory dug the sword tip in deeper.

"No one said you could speak, you bastard."

Jack's hand touched Emory's arm, pushing down slightly, silently telling her to lower her weapon. "He may know somethin'."

"I don't care what 'e knows, Captain Sparrow. 'E's tried ta kill me twice now, I'm not about ta let 'im do it again."

Jack sighed. "Then tie 'im up or somethin', but don't kill 'im. We may need 'im later."

Emory's eyes flashed for a moment as she considered his words. She could care less what happened to this girl. This man had wronged her more than once and now that she finally had a chance to get revenge on him, this Sparrow would try to stop her?

Tristan grinned at her, gazing into her hard eyes. He could see the inner battle she was waging. He could see her hatred for him, see her anger. And yet he could see something else, something that would flicker quickly but then disappear. His heart pounded for a moment, his face remaining calm. Could she still have feelings for him? Even after everything that had happened?

"Why should I care what happens to this girl? You people don't concern me," Emory gritted out.

Jack inhaled sharply, his eyes straying to Will and Elizabeth. He let the breath out slowly. "Because she's yer sister."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Rebecca woke slowly to darkness, her head pounding. She sat up, the room around her spinning. She reached up, tentatively touching the small bleeding cut on her forehead. A large bump had formed underneath the cut. She winced as she touched it, her head throbbing even more, it that was at all possible.

"Go tell th' Cap'n she's awake," a voice said to her left.

Rebecca turned her head quickly, regretting it instantly. She narrowed her eyes to fight back the throbbing in her head. Two men stood in front of her, one leering down at her through one good eye, the other merely staring mutely down at her. The second man turned on his heel and ran out of the door in the middle of the room.

"Yer in fer somethin' special, wench," the man sneered.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"S'not a question fer me ta answer," he replied.

"Then I demand to speak to someone who can."

The man laughed. "S'not yer place. The Cap'n'll speak ta ya when he comes."

"I hope he does. I would like my questions answered immediately," she replied.

"In no place ta make demands either, wench. Don't really care either way whatcha want."

"Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked, her voice giving away the fear that she felt.

The man grinned. "Aye, we know 'oo ya are," he answered.

Rebecca glared up at him as he sneered down at her. Fear tightened her chest, her eyes widening. Why had these pirates taken her? What did they _honestly_ want from her?

Before she could say more, the door opened, a tall man entering the room. He was bald, his hairless scalp revealing scars upon scars. His eyes held her gaze, capturing her in a death hold. Evil was the only way she could describe him. He wore all black, the only color being a simple red ruby the color of blood adorning a silver ring.

"I should've gagged you," he stated simply, sending shivers down her spine.

"Wh . . . who are you?"

The man stared down at her and then one lip curled up in a sneer. "I am the shadow on the moon at night," he answered cryptically, "filling your dreams to the brim with fright."

Rebecca shivered again, his cold eyes filling her with dread. "What do you want?"

His sneer widened. "What any man wants," he stated. "Treasure."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Emory stood silently, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were closed, her head lowered, as she leaned against a wall in the Turner's living room. Jack and the rest were sitting in small groups, alternating between staring at Jack and then Emory. Destiny and Conway stood on either side of their captain, their eyes trained solely on Tristan sitting calmly cross-legged on the floor.

Emory looked up slowly, her eyes flashing. "So, you actually expect me ta believe that after fifteen years of havin' no family, I now have a sister?"

"Somethin' like that."

"An' why should I believe ya?"

Jack sighed. "Long story. Can't really get inta it right now."

"Then why should I trust ya?" she asked, and then turned to Will and Elizabeth. "An' what part do you play in this?"

Their eyes flicked to Jack quickly and then back to Emory. "We were raising her as a favor for a friend," Will finally replied.

Emory shook her head, her long hair waving. "I don't believe you."

"Don't 'ave to," Jack replied, standing up and walking to her. "But it's true. She's yer twin, identical as it were."

Emory stared into his eyes. She still could not shake the feeling that she had met him before, met him somewhere that she couldn't remember.

"Please," Thomas broke in, stepping tentatively up to the two pirates. "If you are truly Rebecca's sister, then you must save her."

Jack's eyes narrowed at him. "You seem somewhat familiar."

"He is a friend on mine," Alex chimed in. "Captain Jack Sparrow may I introduce to you Officer Thomas Norrington."

Jack's eyebrows shot up quickly. "Norrington?"

"Yes. My father was James Norrington, former Commodore of Port Royal."

Jack laughed. "Didn't know the old man 'ad a kid."

"You are not much younger than Norrington Jack," Will said, laughing.

"Bet I look better," Jack replied, winking.

Emory sighed, rolling her eyes. "Can we get on with this please?"

"Ya don' 'ave ta decide now, love. We won't be able ta leave until tomorrow morning so ya can 'ave til then ta decide."

Emory said nothing, merely stared up at him, her dark eye blackening slightly. Seeing her expression, Conway placed one hand on her shoulder. She turned to him slightly.

"Jus' give it some thought, Cap'n. What c'n it 'urt?"

Emory considered his words and then turned to Destiny. Destiny shrugged, as if saying _its yer choice._

Emory sighed again. "Fine, I'll think about it. But I'm not makin' any promises."

"Course not," Jack replied, grinning. "No pirate ever does."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Hours later, everyone had settled in. Emory, having finally remembered her slowly bleeding wound, borrowed a room to clean and stitch it. Emily, James and young William had returned home, preferring to spend time by themselves. Alex had gone back to his quarters in the fort, knowing they would need his help in the morning, as had Thomas.

Will and Michel had gone to bed since they had to rise early in the morning to work in the smithy. Destiny was on Emory's ship, making sure everything was all right. Jack sat softly dozing in his usual chair, his chin resting against his chest.

A hand touched his shoulder softly, hesitantly. "Cap'n Sparrow. Cap'n Sparrow I mus' speak with you."

Jack's soft snoring came to an abrupt halt. "Huh? Wazzat?" he asked, opening bleary eyes.

"C'n I speak wit' ya?"

Jack's eyes flicked to the man beside him. "Conway?"

"Aye, Cap'n. I have to speak wit' ya. It's very important."

"'Ave we met before?"

Conway sighed. "Once. A long time ago. Now, I mus' speak wit' ya about Cap'n W . . ."

Before he could finish, a cream lit the air. Jack jumped to his feet, swaying slightly but immediately alert.

"Elizabeth!"

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

**Up next! Chapter Six: **

**Dawnie****-7: **I'm glad you still like her. And yes, don't I always put a lot of unanswered questions in chapters? I love to do that! You should know that by now!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **_smiles_ Thanks very much! I'm glad you still like her. She's so much fun to write! And thanks again! I shall use the quote in later chapters, and yes, I do search for quotes sometimes. I have an entire book of quotes that I look through! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**PineAppleLint**For the first question, I cannot with a conscience answer that. That would give away the story. Oh! Thomas is really a sweet guy. But, you like to karate chop people, don't you? _shrugs_ eh, whatever makes ya happy! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	6. Revelations

**AN: There is an important not at the end of the chapter! Please read it!**

**P.S.: **My best wishes go out to Care. I hope everything turns out okay for you and I hope you feel better soon!

_"What is sumo, anyway, but sushi with larger pieces of meat?"_

_Derek Sharpe; Witchblade: Demons_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Six: Revelations**

Elizabeth Turner had screamed. Yes, she had screamed, but it was not a scream of fear or pain. No, it had been out of shock.

Because you see, she had seen something, something that she never thought she would see again. She had seen a map. A map that showed the way to uncharted islands. A map to the ultimate treasure. Yet, this map was not found on any scroll. No, this map was found on the back of a pirate captain that she had just met.

Emory turned around quickly, tugging her arms through her vest the rest of the way, buttoning it half-way, the open flaps revealing a small tattoo of a crow, its wings spread out in flight, on her ribs. "What the hell?"

Elizabeth stood pressed against the wall, her hand clutching her chest, her eyes wide. The plain white bed sheets she had been carrying lay rumpled on the floor where she had dropped them.

"Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth!"

Voices called out to her as footsteps pounded down the short hallway. Will reached the room first, a sword in his right hand, his shirt hanging haphazardly over his skin. "Elizabeth? What is it? What happened?"

Elizabeth didn't look at him, her eyes locked on Emory's odd eyes.

"Everythin' alright? What happened?" Jack asked, coming up behind Will.

Elizabeth didn't reply at first, choosing instead to point mutely at Emory. "She . . ." she started. "Her . . ."

"She- her what?" Jack asked, his gaze locking on Emory.

"Her back," Elizabeth said as Michel and Conway squeezed into the room, Conway moving to his captain's side.

Elizabeth turned her wide eyes to Jack. "Jack, she bears the map."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it. His gaze moved down to the floor, not meeting anyone's eyes. Will took this as a confession.

"You knew," he accused.

Jack sighed. "I'd hoped not, but when you said Rebecca never had it . . ." he replied, trailing off.

"Is that why ya asked me here?" Emory said. "Because of a bloody marking on me back?"

"No."

"He asked you here because he could feel it about to happen again," Tristan added, stepping into the room silently.

"What're you talkin' about?"

Tristan smiled slightly. "Can't you hear it? It's calling out again."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Rebecca sat curled up on the mattress, her dirty dress gathered around her feet. Her long brown hair hung in tangles around her face and shoulders; dirt smudged her once porcelain features. Fear hovered in her eyes, never having left since earlier that night when she had first met the captain of the pirate ship she was on.

They had left her for the time being, but she could still hear their raucous noise as they moved about above and below the deck. Something banged against the door to the cabin she was locked in, startling her. She jumped slightly, her head jerking up as the door opened.

The captain sneered in at her, his cold eyes glinting. He walked over to her slowly, his black shirt hanging open, revealing scars littering his chest. He stared down at her, his eyes boring into hers. She shivered under his gaze, the unmistakable feeling of evil running through her again.

"Ya look jus' like 'er," he stated.

Rebecca didn't reply.

"The same eyes, the same hair," he said, running his calloused fingers over her face and through her hair. Rebecca flinched slightly. "The same as her."

Finally taking the bait, Rebecca asked, "Who?"

His eye twitched slowly. Whether it was in anger or annoyance, she couldn't tell.

Moments later, he answered. "The bitch who killed me."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

The group stared silently at Tristan, each wondering if he had completely lost his marbles or if he had lost only half of them.

"What are you talking about?" Michel asked.

"Why're ya even here?" Emory added.

Tristan smirked. "I know you hear it calling you," he said, moving slowly toward Emory. "The dreams. The voices. The feelings that you get. It wants to be found."

"What are you talking about?" Michel repeated.

Tristan didn't look at him. "They wouldn't have heard it, would they?" he asked Emory. "They aren't tied to it like you are. Like your mother was."

Emory's thoughts turned to her mother. A prostitute of Tortuga, a good woman no matter what her occupation.

Tristan saw her look and laughed. "I'm not talking about her, not the woman in Tortuga. I'm talking about your real mother."

Emory's eyes narrowed. "She was my real mother."

"No, she wasn't," he paused and looked over his shoulder at Jack. Jack's face was a mask of calm, but his eyes were flashing. "But it's not my place to tell you, is it?"

Jack stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed. This wasn't how he wanted to go about this. He sighed again. "'E's right lass."

"What do ya mean he's right? I know who my mum was."

Jack shook his head slowly, and then sat down heavily in the chair next to the dresser as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. "No, ya don't. Yer mum wasn't Amora Wyatt o' Tortuga. Yer real mum went by the name o' Lor Adams. Cap'n Lor Adams if ya please," he paused. "An' she, like you, bore the map. Course, can't say she was very happy about it."

Emory stared over at him, her expression unreadable. She looked as if she were ready to deny their claims. Jack wasn't sure what she was going to do. He had heard tales about the pirate that stood before him. She was unpredictable. Emory was never one to do the same thing twice, and she had a temper to match. Much like her mother.

The group watched with bated breath as she considered Jack's words, turning them over in her mind. "How can I believe you?" she asked finally. "I don't know any of you," she said, turning her attention to Tristan. "Except for you, but I can't trust you."

"Ya don't 'ave ta trust us, lass, ya jus' have ta understand that everythin' ya thought ya knew was false," Jack replied.

Emory's eyes flicked to Jack. She wasn't sure what to believe. The only person in the room that she knew she could trust was Conway, and he wasn't offering any advice like he normally did. She turned to look at Conway, confusion etched in her eyes.

He shrugged. "Ya gotta decide this on yer own, Cap'n."

"I don't . . ." she began, and then sighed. "I'm not . . ." her gaze turned to Tristan, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know anything about this?"

Tristan gave a knowing smile. "Because I'm tied to it as well"

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

**AN: **So, have any of you figured out who the bad guy is yet?

**AN 2: I have decided to do yet another contest! Although, it really isn't a contest because I really have nothing to give away this time! Really, the best thing I can give you is the satisfaction of using your idea in Demon Called Deception! What I need, is an idea for this "ultimate treasure" that the map leads to. The treasure is in the shape of an armlet, or an armband. As it says in chapter eight of Silver and Gold: **

**"_Standing in front of a small, gold pedestal, her back to him, was a woman whose red-black hair hung down to the middle of her back. At first, he wondered what he was seeing as he watched her fingers lovingly caress a tiny silver armlet that hovered in front of her. Then, suddenly, she turned on her heel to look down at him. He stepped back quickly as he caught sight of her eyes."_**

**So you see, those are the only requirements! I was thinking it could be something mystical, but that was all I could think of! Please help me! You can either e-mail it to me, or just post it in a review. I would greatly appreciate any help you can give me!**

**Up next! Chapter Seven: On Their Way.**

**Dawnie-7: **Boy, I'm glad I could do that. How'd you like this capture? A little more told but yet so much more to learn.

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I'm glad that you liked it! And I'm glad that you like Emory. And I think that you're the only one who caught the reference to the Tristan thing. No one else said anything about it! Kudos to you!

**Goth Princess: **Yup, another cliffhanger. I'm good at that, aren't I? I love it.

**PineAppleLint: **You know you're the only one who said anything about the quote! I thought it was good too! I laughed so hard when I heard it! Glad you enjoyed the chapter! Hope you liked this one too!

**Arein: **Okay. I thank you very much for the review! I'm glad that you liked Silver and Gold! And, if you get this, I was going to try and e-mail you or something to let you know that the third story is up (which is this one!) and I hope you enjoy it as well!

**Kate: **Yay! I'm glad you like it! And yes, I know. Everyone was very shocked when I killed Lor, but as you will see, it will all tie together later in the story! And, maybe, you'll see Lor once again . . .__


	7. On Their Way

_"Real life is not a comic book, sometimes you've got to get your hands dirty."_

_Lex Luthor_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Seven: On Their Way**

Silent tears streamed down Rebecca's face, mixing with the small trails of dried blood and healing bruises. A brutish pirate held her arms roughly above her head. The back of her dress had been ripped open, revealing her pale back. The captain of the ship stood above her, glaring down at her.

He picked up a candleholder, the candle having been thankfully removed earlier that day, and threw it forcefully, angrily, at the two men standing by the door. The two pirates ducked, shielding their heads from the shattered candleholder.

"Ya brought me the wrong bloody girl!" he yelled, causing a still crying Rebecca to flinch. "Are ya that stupid?"

"She looks like 'im, Cap'n," one of them replied, shaking slightly. "Just as ya described 'er."

"Then 'ow can ya explain this?" he replied angrily, pointing one thin finger at her back. "She 'as no map! The bloody girl is supposed ta 'ave a map on her back!"

"She was right where ya said she'd be!" the second pirate replied.

"She 'as ta be the girl unless she 'as a twin somewhere!"

"Are you an idiot? Of course she doesn't . . ." the captain trailed off, his eyes widening slightly and a small smile crossing his scarred lips. "A twin, eh?" he asked, turning his attention to the crying girl lying beside him.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Emory stood quietly at the helm of her ship, the _Silent Whisper_, her angry eyes following Tristan as he climbed to the Crow's Nest. She hadn't wanted him on her ship again. Not after last time. But, seeing as Jack had taken on Will Turner, his sons Alex and Michel, son-in-law James, and Thomas Norrington, Emory figured the least she could do was allow him back on her ship.

"As long as 'e stays away from me," she whispered.

"Cap'n?" Conway asked.

Emory shook her head. "Nothin'."

Conway looked at her, and then followed her gaze up to Tristan. His eyes narrowed. She should have killed him when she had the chance. If it had been up to Conway, he'd have killed Tristan in his sleep. But, his captain had told him no. There were still too many unanswered questions for her.

He knew this had to be hard for her, having Tristan so close to her after everything that had happened. And now, she came to find out that he was tied to the map on her back as well, something that no one else in the world had, save for Captain Jack Sparrow. Conway could tell, even if Emory tried to hide it, that she had to absorb too much. After fifteen years of living on her own, without being able to trust anyone, she was now being expected to believe every word that came out of a complete stranger's mouth.

Conway remembered how she had been five years ago when he had first met her. Emory had lived on her own in the streets of Tortuga for over ten years, surviving, protecting herself with the weapons she had stolen. She had been cocky, bitter because of her hard life. Conway snorted. She hadn't changed much since then.

But then she had met Tristan when she had first become Captain. At that time, she had seemed a little cheerful, a little happier than normal. For a few months she had been happy, partaking in her crew's celebrations, taking part in their jokes and drinking games. Tristan had been her lover, her confidant, and even her friend. Months later he had ended that relationship by stabbing her.

They'd had no clear idea as to why he'd done it. Hell, they still didn't know why. Weeks after Tristan had stabbed her; he had escaped from the ship's brig when they were docked in Tortuga, disappearing into the crowded streets. Conway sighed, watching as Emory's hand unconsciously went to her side where he knew the scar from the dagger was.

Conway's eyes cut to her face. Her hard eyes were still staring up at Tristan as he stood in the Nest, his back to them. Emory's right hand clutched the wheel tighter, squeezing it hard.

She shook her head, breaking her eyes away from Tristan's shadowy body. "Mr. Conway, take the helm," she said, turning to him slightly.

"Aye, Cap'n," he replied, stepping up beside her and taking the wheel. He watched her walk away, watched as she stepped slowly down the stairs. "God, she's so much like her mother," he whispered. His gaze shot up to the vague outline of a ship sailing in front of them. The _Black Pearl_ moved silently through the water, the sails barely making a noise in the slight wind.

"He must miss her."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

"She seemed to hate him a great deal Jack. I don't understand why you would ask her to allow him on her ship."

"Had ta be that way, whelp," Jack replied.

Will's eyebrows rose slightly. "She may kill him. And then where would you be? It seems he knows more about the map, and everything else, than you do."

Jack shrugged. "She won't kill 'im. She may seem like she hates 'im, but . . ." he trailed off, his eyes growing distant. He shook his head seconds later. "I believe she still cares for him; she's just lettin' 'er anger get in the way. She's a lot like Lor in that aspect."

Will watched Jack's face. He could only guess as to how hard it was for Jack to mention Lor's name, could only guess as to what it was like to see his daughter after twenty years. He didn't know what he would do if he ever lost Elizabeth, or any of his children. It had been devastating enough when Alex and Emily had been kidnapped when they were five. (For those of you who haven't read any of the other two stories, this occurred in Sui Generis, part one of this series.) But to have willingly given up what family he'd had left . . .

Will knew that it had eaten Jack up inside for twenty years, knew that Jack had never forgiven himself for it, and he knew he never would.

He touched Jack's shoulder slightly, a smile crossing his face. "But what if she does kill him?"

Jack laughed. "You, Will Turner, are becoming way too pessimistic in your old age."

"You're still older than me Jack."

Jack stopped laughing abruptly, raising his hand in front of his face, staring at the calloused, but still un-wrinkled skin of his fingers. "Am I?"

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Elizabeth sat calmly by the picture window in her house. It had only been less than a day since everyone had left, but her heart already hurt at being separated from her husband. Although, she could really only be angry at herself because she had chosen to stay behind with Emily.

Emily couldn't leave. Not with her young son. So Elizabeth had stayed, keeping her daughter company as their husbands and family left to rescue Rebecca. She sighed. God, she hoped they would all be okay, that they would come back safely.

"Mother?"

Elizabeth turned to see her daughter standing in the doorway, her light brown hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. Elizabeth held out her hand, beckoning for Emily to come to her.

Emily rushed over to her mother, grabbing her outstretched hand and falling to her knees. Elizabeth placed her free hand on Emily's head, smiling slightly.

"It will be okay. They'll all be fine, they are with Jack," she said, offering her strength that she didn't have.

Emily merely nodded, hiding her face in Elizabeth's skirts.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Emory sat silently at her desk, her mind pondering what had been said the night before.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

_"What are you talking about? How could you be tied to a map that's on _my_ back?"_

_Tristan shrugged. "I don't know exactly, but I can feel its pull. We were all supposed to be here at this time. We're supposed to see the attacking ship. Perhaps somehow we all have a connection to whoever's on it?"_

_"Ya mean besides the fact that she's me daughter?" Jack asked._

_"And, supposedly, my sister?" Emory replied, her eyes flashing._

_"I don't think that it's her that we have a connection to. For one thing, I've never met her, despite the fact that she's Alex's adoptive sister. The only people I've met in this room are you two," Tristan replied, gesturing at Emory and Conway._

_"And I wish I'd never met you," Emory answered._

_Jack rubbed his eyes. "Per'aps it's the ship?" he offered._

_Emory's eyes narrowed. "How could we be connected to a ship?"_

_"Same way I'm connected to the _Pearl_ I guess," he answered. "I've lost blood for 'er, an' even spent ten years tryin' ta get 'er back."_

_"Maybe it's someone else on the ship that's tied to the map," __Conway__ said._

_Emory sighed, exasperated. "How could so many people be tied to one little marking?"_

_"The same way yer mother was. And yer grandparents, great-grandparents an' so on," Jack answered._

_"The marking is a lot more important than you realize," Tristan added. "You just don't know it yet."_

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

A loud knocking drew Emory out of her stupor. Her eyes flicked angrily to the door. "Oh for the love of . . . Come in!" she shouted.

The door opened slowly, revealing a shadowed figure. "Captain," he said, his smooth voice tickling her senses.

Emory sat upright, her hand going for the pistol she kept hidden underneath her desk.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

The captain of the _Devil's Shadow_ backhanded her again, relishing as a small trail of blood trickled down her chin from a cut lip. Rebecca's head snapped to her right. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, willing, hoping, that he would go away and leave her in peace.

He walked behind the chair she was tied in and savagely pulled her head back by her hair. "Tell me where it is," he ground out, his dark eyes glaring into hers. "Who is yer sister?"

Rebecca's lips trembled slightly as she fought back her tears. "I only have one sister," she whispered, unwilling to move her aching jaw. "He-her name is Emily Turn . . . Mathews."

He threw her head forward. "Not her! I speak of your _real_ sister!" he yelled, walking back around and placing his hands on the edge of the wooden chair. "The sister whose blood you share! Don't give me this crap of Emily Turner. I know of her."

"She's the only one I have!" Rebecca sobbed.

He glared at her, but then, he straightened, sudden realization dawning on him. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Who you are," came his simple reply.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

The dagger was at his throat as soon as his arms wrapped around his waist. He grinned down at her, his grey eyes flashing.

"Give me a reason," she said. "Please."

Tristan merely grinned wider. He leaned down slowly, pressing the dagger edge deeper into his neck.

"I can see it in your eyes," he whispered.

"See what?"

"That you miss it."

"What're ya talkin' about?"

"This," he whispered again, leaning in further and kissing the tip of her earlobe.

Emory's first thought was to pull away, to break free of his hold. But her second thought was of how right this felt. Emory jerked away, keeping the dagger at his throat.

"Don't touch me," she said, her hard voice wavering slightly.

"You can't tell me you don't miss this," he replied, his roaming hands massaging her skin through her shirt.

Emory's arm faltered slightly and then straightened again. He kissed her jaw, dropping feather light kisses on her skin. She could feel fire spread throughout her body at his caresses. Her lips parted slightly and she tilted her head back.

Emory's eyes closed for a moment, relishing in the feelings he was invoking in her, but then shot open. She pushed him away, her eyes growing colder.

"I told you not to touch me."

Tristan leaned into her, his eyes never showing the slight pain he felt as her dagger bit into his throat. "You may be a pirate captain," he whispered, hovering over her mouth, "but you are still a woman."

He pressed his lips to hers, softly at first and then placing all of his passion into it. Emory knew she should push him away, knew she should plunge the dagger deep into his throat, ending all of her pain and torture.

But she couldn't. His hands were working magic on her skin. As they had used to, two years ago.

Emory tilted her head back again, gasping for air. "I hate you," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself of that fact.

Tristan grinned, leaning down once again and kissing her jaw. "But you can't resist."

"Unh," she whispered. "I hate you."

Tristan merely smiled against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down her throat. His smile widened as he felt the dagger slip from her fingers. Those same, calloused fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

**Don't forget about the help I need! The help with what the ultimate treasure is! I hope you all can help!**

**AN: **Okay, I hope all of you liked it. By the way, how on earth do you get the little line across the page to show a new scene? I can't seem to get it to work! It's driving me crazy!

**DuTchess of Doom: **Ah . . . the way the mind works. I think you might be catching on. You'll find out what Tristan did soon, but she did kind of hint at it in a previous chapter. Oh, and there is more to Emory's tattoo than I let on. It's not just a picture. Hope you enjoyed.

**Evil Duckie of the BlackLagoon: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.

**Dawnie-7: **Aw. You don't want to even offer a guess? You never know, your guess could be right. And I understand about losing creative juices. Mine seem to be trickling out slowly because of school. Hope you enjoyed!

**Arein: **That's a cute idea. I'll keep that in mind. And I'm glad that you understand why I had to kill her. Everyone else was just angry! I hope you continue reading!

**NazgulGirl: **Thanks! I'm glad that you liked it!

**Obsetress: **Yay! I'm glad someone else likes it as well! I'm happy to have you as a reader. And now, may I ask, was that a guess as to whom the captain is? Even though I can't say if you're correct or not, I must say that I'm glad that someone did. Hope you continue to read!


	8. Reflections

_"Oh no,/ here it is again/ I need to know/ why did I choose to betray you/ Something wrong/ with all the plans of my life/ I didn't realize that you've been here/ Dolefully desired/ Destiny of a lie/ Set me free/ your heaven's a lie/ set me free with your love/ set me free."_

_Lacuna Coil; Heaven's A Lie_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Eight: Reflections**

Tristan sat in the darkness, his chin resting on his clasped hands. His eyes watched Emory as she slept, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her skin glowed in the pale moonlight that floated in through the window. His gaze traced over her naked body, the sheets hovering at her hips.

The first mark on her that caught his eye was the scar on her left side, the scar that he had put there. Perhaps, somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knew that it hadn't been a killing blow. And, despite his orders, he knew he never would have been able to kill her. Perhaps it was because he had finally found his equal, both in fighting and in craftiness. Perhaps it was because she had proven to be a valuable part in his plans, making him work to find her strengths and weaknesses.

But, no, he knew the reason. It had been because he had seen something in her, something that he had never been the recipient of before. A longing had echoed in her eyes, a caring that had been hidden far beneath her cold exterior, and he had felt that he could not take that away.

Tristan reached out slowly, his fingers tracing over the scar softly. It was something he had given her, something that he could never take her back. He drew his hand back slowly, brushing his fingertips along her cool skin until he touched a small tattoo of a crow, its wings spread out wide. He remembered that. He remembered when he had given it to her. A symbol of his love, he had told her. A symbol that would connect her to him always, as he would be to her through his own crow tattooed on his chest.

His eyes narrowed slightly as his fingers traced over three jagged scars cutting through the black crow. He wondered, for a moment, if she had done that herself, as if she had been trying to scratch it off. Tristan knew that his betrayal two years ago had hurt her, had angered her, but he never thought that she would try to injure herself over it. And yet, maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had received those scars in a fight. He knew she would never tell him. She would never trust him as much as she used to.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair, his eyes watching the graceful curves of her body as she rolled over onto her right side, turning her back to him. Tristan's gaze locked onto the marking covering her back, the map to untold treasure. He remembered seeing it, two years ago, but never realizing what it meant or what it led to. He could remember running his hands along her back, his fingers tracing the intricate outlines of it. He could even remember asking her about it and receiving only a cryptic reply.

Tristan sighed again and then stood up, stretching his back for a moment. He knew there was no point in him staying in the room until morning. She was more likely to stab him in his sleep than to curl up next to him. He reached down slowly, lifting the soft sheets from her hips and pulling them up to her shoulders, hiding her exquisite body from him. Tristan gazed at her face for a brief second. It was amazing how a woman who could hold Death at bay with a glance could look so peaceful in her sleep.

He kissed the crook of her neck softly, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly, a small sigh escaping from her lips. Tristan straightened again, turning his back on her and walking slowly to the door. With one last look back at her, he left the room, leaving Emory to her dreams.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

_"You've got your passion, my child, and you've got your pride," Amora whispered, cradling the young girl to her. "But don't you know only fools are satisfied? Dream on, Emory, but don't imagine they'll all come true."_

_Emory stared up at her mother, the older woman's eyes glassed over with sickness. "Mommy?" she called, her five-year-old voice tiny and hollow._

_Amora didn't reply at first, her breathing halting slightly._

_"Mommy?"_

_Amora gasped slightly. "You're a beautiful child, my little Emory. You're destined for great things, I can see it in your eyes. Never let people take advantage of you my darling, hold your fate in your own hands."_

_She smiled down at the young Emory until a sudden bout of coughing took hold of her, a thin trail of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She trailed one finger down Emory's cheek lightly. "If only he could see you now," she muttered._

_"Who mommy?" Emory asked softly._

_Amora didn't reply, her eyes glazing over. Emory tugged at her mother's hand slightly. "Mommy?"_

_"Mommy?"_

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Emory woke to an empty bed, the soft sheets around her void of heat. She kept he eyes closed, imagining the heat of his arms around her. Emory inwardly groaned. God was she an idiot. Allowing that man into her bed again. How could she have been so stupid? What _had_ she been thinking?

Of course, that was just it, wasn't it? She hadn't been thinking. At least, she hadn't been thinking about what she _should_ have been thinking. Emory hadn't been thinking about not giving him another chance to try and kill her. Oh no, she had been thinking of something else entirely. Emory silently cursed herself and her urgings. That's how she had gotten into this mess in the first place.

Emory shivered slightly, but it wasn't from the cold of the blankets around her. Someone was in the room. Someone who wasn't supposed to be. Someone who was about to be dead.

Emory moved her hand slowly, silently, through the sheets, reaching for the pistol she kept hidden until a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Looks like someone 'ad a little bit of fun last night."

Emory sighed and rolled over, careful to keep the sheets firmly around her chest so as not to allow him to see her naked. And that confused her. Normally she wasn't concerned with anyone seeing her undressed, but this man was different and she didn't know why.

"Did ya need somethin', Cap'n Sparrow?"

Jack stared over at her, taking in her familiar features and odd eyes. He didn't speak for a moment, merely locking gazes with Emory. "Actually," he finally replied, "yes. We need ta finish discussin' what we're gonna do once we reach Kingston."

"Can't this wait until I'm dressed?"

"Only if yer bothered by my being here."

Emory stared into his eyes, noticing that not once did his gaze stray anywhere else but her own eyes, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

"Whatever. Let's jus' get it over with."

Jack nodded and then leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "We'll have ta dock off port. Don't want the bloody Navy knowin' we're there. I know exactly where we have to go, I've been ta visit 'em a few times."

"So I take it they're pirate friendly," Emory asked.

He nodded again. "Aye. They've been 'oldin' on ta somethin' of mine fer awhile, I need ta get it back."

"What is it?"

"Can't say right now, you'll know when the time's right," he paused, taking a deep breath, and then continued. "Now, if I've timed it right, the rich 'n' pretty should be 'avin' their annual 'kick the little people when they're down' ball, 'osted by me contact."

"So?"

"You'll be there with me."

Emory stared over at him, confused. "Are you crazy?"

Jack smirked, leaning back in his seat, his eyes still locked on hers. "I've been called that," he shrugged. "Course, if ya wanna take some o' yer crew, ya can. Jus' make sure they can look at least partially presentable. Don't need our cover getting' blown right when we get there.

"Make sure ya bring that Tristan lad as well, 'e seems ta know a whole helluva lot more than he's lettin' on."

Emory groaned, not liking what he was saying. "Do I 'ave a say in this at all?"

Jack grinned. "Not really. Yer vital to me plans. Now, we'll be reachin' Kingston in the next day or so, so make sure yer ready."

"But I 'ave nothin' ta wear," Emory replied sarcastically.

"We're pirates lass. I'm sure we can . . . acquire . . . somethin'."

Emory grinned up at him, her mismatched eyes glinting. "I'm sure we could."

Jack stood up, brushing a stray strand of his hair away from his face. "Now, yer first mate's been sittin' outside yer door anxiously waitin' ta speak ta ya, so, I will leave you. Good day, Cap'n."

Emory nodded silently in reply, her eyes narrowing. It was odd to hear a pirate speak in such a _polite_ manner. There was more to this man than he was letting on and she sure as hell was going to find out what it was.

Jack left her room, leaving the door open and nodding silently to Conway. Conway opened his mouth as if to say something to him but then shut it, allowing Jack to walk away. Conway watched him leave for a moment and then turned to her, stepping into her cabin and shutting the door.

"Cap'n," he stated simply, although Emory could hear something else hidden into his one word.

She rolled her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't Mr. Conway. It's not gonna 'appen again. It was one moment o' weakness."

"Never said I was gonna say nothin'," he replied.

"Oh please," Emory said, rolling out of her bed, the sheets falling to the floor. "I can hear it in yer voice."

Conway stared down at the floor, allowing his captain some privacy. "It's none o' my business what ya do Cap'n," he answered.

"Or who, right, Mr. Conway?" she asked, grinning. She stepped up to him, tying a black sash around her waist.

Conway grinned back. "Jus' wish ya'd choose a better partner next time. One that hasn't tried ta kill ya."

"Understood," she answered, pulling her long red-black hair back into a braid, "and duly noted. I'll try ta keep that in mind next time. Is that all ya needed?"

Conway shook his head. "Crew's not 'appy about 'im bein' on board either. They all remember what he did ta ya."

"They'll jus' 'ave ta deal with it. There was nothin' else I could do. Let 'em know that if _any_ of 'em do anythin' ta 'im, they'll 'ave me ta answer to, savvy?"

"Aye, Cap'n, I'll let 'em know. What about when we reach Kingston?"

Emory thought for a moment, slipping her feet into her shin-high boots. "Get two or three of the men together. Make sure they look presentable. We'll be goin' ashore with Cap'n Sparrow."

"Ya sure that's wise?"

"Yer not questionin' me _again_ are you, Mr. Conway?" Emory snapped, her eyes darkening.

"Course not, Cap'n," he muttered.

Emory stared over at him and then sighed. "Sorry, mate. It's all just . . . I'm just . . ." she sighed again. "It's just too much ta take in. I'm goin' against everythin' I believe an' tryin' ta trust this man who claims ta be Cap'n Jack Sparrow. I'm a little stressed is all."

Conway nodded. "I know Cap'n," he said softly, and then smiled slightly. "May as well get topside. Crew's waitin' fer ya."

Emory nodded, standing up and leaving her cabin, Conway following behind her. If she was this temperamental after everything, Conway couldn't even begin to imagine how pissed she was going to be when she learned the whole truth.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Rebecca stared down at the plate of food on the table in front of her. Her ears heard what the crude captain was saying, but her mind didn't want to believe him.

"How can you lie so?" she asked quietly.

The captain laughed. "Ain't lyin' wench."

"Yes, you are. I know who my parents are."

"Obviously, you don't," he sneered.

"Yes, I do!" she yelled, slamming her fists down on the table. "They are Will and Elizabeth Turner! Not these people I hardly know!"

"It'd be impossible fer ya ta know her mother since she's dead."

"No, she's not," Rebecca whispered, covering her face with her hands. "She's not. You're wrong. You're lying."

The captain slammed the tip of a knife into the table. "Enough! Yer as irritatin' as yer mother! I do you a favor by tellin' ya who you really are an' all ya can do is argue? I'd be grateful wench."

"Grateful for what? For you trying to kill me?"

"If I'd wanted ya dead, wench, ya would be."

Rebecca swallowed. "Then why don't you?"

He smiled, a cruel, bone-chilling smile. "Because I have something much more important in store for you."

"Like what?" she asked hesitantly.

"Like bait."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

**AN: **I'm baaaaaack! I am _so_ sorry that it has taken me so long but everything went to hell all in one week. First, my computer dies and I have to send it in to get fixed and I just got it back yesterday! Second, a hurricane hits and we lose power for a week. And then our cable is out until today, so I can't get online to do anything. Everything just really blew monkeys. But, here I am! I hope you all enjoy it!

**kantgetdizgrl: **Oh thank you! And as to your question. No, Tristan was not in the last story. This story is basically about the daughters and life after the second story and what happens and what not. Tristan is actually a new character, but you will find out a lot about him in later chapters! I'm glad you liked it and I hope you continue reading!

**Dawnie-7: **It will all be explained later on, when I can figure out what exactly it is. And it's a good guess. All will be revealed in later chapters because I can't reveal it yet. Hope you liked the chapter!

**Euterpe: **Okay, first, your question. No. Well, yes. The marking is different each time in each generation. But, they didn't actually find the island with the treasure on it. In Sui Generis, she led Skinner to a false island where Jack and the rest were waiting for them. And, in Silver and Gold, both Jack and Lor had several dreams where they were in a cavern surrounded with gold with a tiny silver armlet floating above a pedestal. That, in fact, is the real island. They just never got there until later. I hope that helped!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Boy, you do catch on quick. I'm very sorry that I leave you pondering for hours, but I guess that's the sign of a good story, right? And, in Silver and Gold, the pain in Lor's shoulder was because Mason had stabbed her. I guess I should have made that more clear because now I do realize that Skinner . . . skinned . . . her there in Sui Generis. You find out about the tattoo in this chapter, so I hope you like the reason that she has it. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**Evil Duckie of the BlackLagoon: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

**Obsetress: **Yes, the reason he stabbed her will be revealed soon. I just have to figure out completely what it is. And, no, the captain is no Barbossa. I don't think I could ever bring him back. Now, I know a lot of people do, and they write it wonderfully, but I just think he is better off dead.

**NazgulGirl: **I can't really kill him off right now because he is an integral part to my story, sorry. I hope you liked it!

**Arein: **Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

**Mystery GYRL: **Well, it's about time. JK! Anyway, glad you liked it! And thanks for all the help!


	9. UnHappy Returns

_"30 minutes, a blink of an eye/ 30 minutes to alter our lives/ 30 minutes to make up my mind/ 30 minutes to finally decide/ 30 minutes to whisper your name/ 30 minutes to shoulder the blame/ 30 minutes to bliss, thirty lies/ 30 minutes to finally decide."_

_30 Minutes; t.A.T.u._

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Nine: Un-Happy Returns**

"You've gotta be kiddin' me."

"I don't know. You look rather . . ."

"Foolish?"

"I wouldn't go that far . . ."

"I look like an idiot. I rob people who look like this."

Jack laughed, gazing over at Emory as she picked at the lace and frills covering the dress that she was wearing. She almost reminded him of her mother, all those years ago. He frowned. Now all he had to do was figure out how he was going to tell her the rest of the truth.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

The ball was going nicely, the guests all having a good time dancing, drinking, and gossiping. Glancing around the large ball room, one would never be able to tell that half of these people did not even like each other. They all hid their dislike of each other under masks of enjoyment. He was surrounded by all these fake people and it was beginning to make him sick.

Tyler Adams could feel his boredom rising. He wasn't sure why he threw this ball every year when, each time, it drove him crazy.

"If looks could kill, my love," a soft voice said beside him.

Tyler turned to his wife, taking hold of her hand. "I think I need to get away from this for awhile Sarah."

A flicker of worry crossed Sarah's face as she stared up at her husband. "Where will you go?"

Tyler laughed slightly at her expression. "The garden, Mrs. Adams. It is getting a bit too stuffy in here. I will be back shortly," he replied, bending over and kissing her cheek.

Sarah gave a sigh of relief and smiled up at him. For a moment she had worried that he would leave her to this mundane life alone. She should have known that he would never do that to her. He wasn't that type of man.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

The cool breeze hit Tyler as he entered the garden, his fingertips brushing the flowers blooming all around him. He sighed, wondering, not for the first time, if he had done the right thing all those years ago when he had helped his cousin escape from prison. Obviously he had done the right thing in rescuing her, but perhaps not in leaving England.

The last twenty years had been rough. True, they still lived in luxury, but not as they had in England. His grandfather had given him money before Tyler had left to help get him started, to allow him the ability to make his own life. He had started a trading business, starting with one small ship and rising steadily to ten, doing his business through different ports.

Tyler's grandfather had continued to support him, continued to send him money even after he became prosperous through his business, up until his death ten years ago. Tyler owed everything to his grandfather; his new life, his happiness, and even his marriage. He had been saddened by Jeremy's death and he still carried the guilt of not being able to be with him when he died, nor had he been able to be there for his funeral.

Tyler knew that his grandfather's health had started to turn for the worse when he had received the news of Lor's death. Despite what most people would have believed about pirates, Jack Sparrow had written to each person who had been a big part of Lor's life, although after the letter of her death, Tyler had never heard from him again.

Tyler often wondered what had become of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, often wondering where he had been during the last twenty years. He had considered jack to be one of his closest friends, albeit an odd one. Tyler even worried about him sometimes, praying that he hadn't died or been killed. Of course, if Captain Jack Sparrow had been killed, the news would have spread like wildfire.

"Why is it that whenever someone appears to be thinking of death, they get this horrified look on their faces?"

Tyler jumped slightly, jerking his head up to look in front of him. What he saw there almost made him faint.

"Captain Sparrow-Jack-it has been awhile. You look . . . the same."

Jack smiled slightly. "Aye, lad, so do you. Been busy I see," he replied, glancing up at the house in front of him.

"Business is good," Tyler said, pausing, "despite the pirate activity," he finished, smiling.

Tyler's eyes flicked from Jack, taking in the four people standing behind him. One of the people he recognized as Gibbs, Jack's longtime friend and right hand man. The other three people, two women and a man, he did not recognize. Although . . .

"Lor?" Tyler said hesitantly.

The woman's head shot up, a single gold eye glinting in the darkness. When she looked at him that way, with that cold, calculating gaze, he knew it wasn't Lor, just someone who almost completely resembled her.

"No," he said softly. "I'm sorry, I was mistaken."

Jack placed a hand softly on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "S'okay lad, we all made a similar mistake."

"Who is she Jack?" Tyler whispered.

"Tyler Adams, allow me ta introduce Captain Emory Wyatt," Jack replied. "Lor's daughter."

Tyler's head snapped up to meet Jack's gaze. "Her daughter? Jack, you never told me that you . . ." Tyler stopped when Jack gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was it that Jack didn't want him saying? What was he trying to hide?

"Can we get on with this?" Emory snapped, tugging at the dress she was wearing. "This is gettin' really irritatin'."

Jack grinned over at her and then turned back to Tyler. "Twenty years ago I sent you somethin'."

"You mean the sealed box?" Tyler questioned.

"Aye. I need it back."

"We came all this way fer a bloody box?" Emory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack sighed. "It's not the box I need love. It's what's inside it."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Will gazed around the ballroom, taking in the many false smiles and forced laughter. He was almost glad that Elizabeth had chosen to live with him on the outskirts of Port Royal rather than live in the center of the town with the rest of the rich and fancy people. Will was also very relieved that he never had to deal with one of these. He hated balls. He hated the fact that people like this would look down on him merely because he was a "lowly" blacksmith.

"Father, Uncle Jack and the rest have come back in," Alex said to his right.

Will looked up; his eyes catching hold of Jack's gaze, Jack nodded his head at him and then tapped Emory on the shoulder. He pointed at Will and then said something to her. Emory nodded, walking towards Will and his sons, Destiny and Tristan following behind her.

"Cap'n Sparrow said 'e'll be back soon. 'E told us ta stay 'ere," Emory said as they walked up.

Will nodded his understanding.

Tristan grabbed hold of Emory's hand, raising it to his face and brushing his lips against her knuckles. "If we have to wait for him," he paused and then smiled up at her, "then, shall we dance?"

Emory glared up at him. She fought the urge to rip her hand away from him, allowing him the ability to play out this part of his game. She almost wanted to burn the part of her hand that he kissed, wishing to make the crawling sensation stop. "I don't dance," she seethed.

"Doesn't matter," Tristan replied, pulling her into his arms and onto the ballroom floor in one fluid movement, completely aware that he was an inch from death.

Despite her protestations about not dancing, Emory managed to keep up with his movements, nearly tripping over her skirts only once. Tristan held her as close to him as decency would allow, one hand staying on her waist. He gazed down into her eyes, a smile crossing his lips at the look of death they bore.

"You look almost like a normal woman," he whispered.

"Give it a little more time and you may look like a normal human," she snapped back. "But I wouldn't hold my breath."

"You wound me Captain."

"I'll wound ya in a minute," she ground out. "Jus' wait 'til we get back ta me ship."

"Ah, but then you won't know any more about the map."

"I could care less about the bloody map," Emory whispered, her eyes flicking to the doorway on the other side of the room, hoping Jack would come back soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold off on killing the man dancing her around the room.

Emory's eyes narrowed slightly as she caught sight of three navy officers heading towards them. Her grip on Tristan's shoulder tightened, pulling them closer together, leaving only an inch between their bodies.

"We may 'ave a problem," she whispered.

Emory could feel his muscles tighten, ready for whatever would happen next.

"What is it?"

"Three guards, heading our way."

"Think they know who we are?"

Emory snorted. "Don't know. Have you ever been caught before?"

Tristan laughed slightly. "No. You?"

"Once. I escaped before they could brand me."

He sighed. "Then yes, I do believe they know who we are. What do you plan to do about it?"

Emory was silent for a moment, her mind going through dozens of maneuvers and ways to escape. "I think it'd be best jus' ta get lost in the crowd. It'd be harder fer them ta find us."

"Then we better do it quickly."

"Hmmm . . . agreed."

Tristan moved off to the side, linking his arm over hers and leading her into the crowd. A hand landed on her shoulder roughly, the fingers tightening slightly. The hand spun her around quickly, ripping her arm away from Tristan's. Three guards stood in front of her, their rifles held loosely at their sides.

"I believe you need to come with us miss."

"I beg your pardon?" Emory asked, doing her best to impersonate one of the snobby people standing around her. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You just need to come with us quietly," the first officer replied, reaching out and grabbing hold of her arm.

Emory glared down at his hand, her mask of false outrage falling from her face. "No, I don't think I do," she said.

"No need to cause a scene, miss," another guard answered.

"Oh, I really think there is."

Tristan made the first move, lunging at one of the officers standing by him. A sharp crack sounded in the room as the officer fell back, his head slamming against the marble dance floor. Tristan jumped back up to his feet at the same time that Emory grabbed hold of the officer holding her, twisting his arm until she heard the satisfying crack of his arm breaking.

A woman near them screamed, causing Emory to curse under her breath. She slammed her fist into the officer's cheek, knocking him unconscious. Emory turned her attention to Tristan, watching in silent amusement as he took out the third officer, wiping blood off of his chin from a hit he had taken.

Tristan glanced up at her, a small smile crossing his face. He reached out quickly and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him. "Just like old times," he whispered.

Emory groaned. "Don't get ahead o' yerself. We're not out o' the woods yet," she replied, climbing over the three prone bodies and pushing her way through the crowd, dragging Tristan along with her.

The people around them scattered, moving out of their way. One woman stood still, standing silently with Will, Michel and Alex.

"Go out through the garden," she whispered, her eyes locking on Emory. "There is a hidden exit there. Your companions are waiting there for you."

"Thank you Mrs. Adams," Will replied, bowing slightly to her. "Give your husband my regards."

Sarah smiled. "I shall. Now, go before more officers come. The scream has alerted the guards."

Emory stared at the woman as she left, wondering why she was helping them. No matter who they were, nobody ever did anything without a reason. She lifted her skirts as the door shut behind them, releasing Tristan's hand, careful not to trip on the hem of the dress.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

"So, did ya get what you were after?" Emory asked.

She slouched in the armchair she sat in, the dress bunched up around her knees. The petite dancing shoes she had been wearing had long been taken off.

Jack smiled. "Aye. That I did."

"Good. Can we go now?"

"We may want to wait for a little while," Alex answered. "Just to make sure the navy is not out looking for us."

"Can I at least change out o' this bloody dress? I feel completely naked wit' out my weapons."

"I could help you with that," Tristan replied from across the room.

Michel's eyebrows rose slightly at his comment. Jack merely smirked.

"You could only hope," Emory shot back. Tristan smiled back at her, a hidden message locked in his eyes.

"Of course you can change," Jack replied, standing up from his spot on the floor. "Yer clothes are in the satchel by the bed. If you'll excuse us, we'll all go down an' join yer crew in a drink."

Emory watched them leave, her eyes lingering on Tristan as he shut the door. She wasn't sure why, but something had echoed inside of her when she had fought side by side with Tristan, something had caused her heart to pound, and it wasn't the fight. She sighed, sitting motionless for a moment in the hard chair and then stood up, unlacing the dress quickly, allowing it to fall about her feet. She picked the dress up slowly, staring down at the lace, frills and ribbons.

Emory snorted. "How can anyone stand wearin' this?" She threw the dress onto the bed, her hands going to the loosely ties corset around her waist.

She struggled with the strings in the front for a moment, and then sighed. She wished she had something to cut with.

"Need some help?" a soft voice said behind her.

Emory turned around quickly, cursing herself for not hearing anyone enter. "I can manage," she snapped.

Tristan smiled. "I would imagine it would be a two person job to get that thing off. Destiny had to help you put it on, didn't she?"

"I can manage," she said again.

Tristan grabbed her shoulder, turning her around before she could say more. His adept fingers unlaced the corset quickly, the stiff clothing falling to the ground.

Emory stooped to pick the garment up, but was stopped by an arm wrapping around her waist. Tristan pulled her to him, his free hand pulling the pin out of her hair, allowing her long tresses to cover his chest. He snaked his arm around her, effectively pinning her arms to her sides.

Emory's back went rigid as she felt Tristan bury a kiss into her hair.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, kissing the tip of her ear. "Don't you trust me?"

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

"Mrs. Turner."

"Oh, hello Mr. Norrington. How are you today?"

Thomas smiled weakly. "I have been better. And you? How are you and Emily faring?"

Elizabeth smiled as well. "We're fine. I believe it is harder on Emily. James has never been called away before; this is the first time away from him."

"And you?"

Elizabeth gave a weak laugh. "Me? I-well-I have been through all of this more times than I care to keep track of."

"Have you had any news?" he asked, linking her arm through his and beginning to walk slowly down the dusty road.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No and I do not expect any until they return. Do not worry Thomas, she will be returned to us."

"Hmm . . . yes," he answered absentmindedly.

She stopped, turning him to her. "I love Rebecca like a daughter, Thomas," she began. "But the question is, can you still love her even though she is the daughter of a pirate?"

Thomas didn't reply the sadness and confusion echoing in his eyes answering her question.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

"'E may be tryin' ta kill 'er 'gin," Conway slurred.

Destiny rolled her eyes, rubbing her dark face, running her fingers through her ebony hair. "I 'ate 'im as much as ye do, Conway, but ya worry too much."

"I don't think 'e's tryin' ta kill 'er lad," Jack replied. "Not when 'e was lookin' at 'er like that."

"'E looked at 'er like that two years ago, too," Conway replied. "Didn't stop 'im then either."

"She mentioned something like that before," Michel chimed in. "What did she mean?"

"'E shot 'er," Destiny said simply.

"Why?" Jack asked.

Conway shrugged. "No one knows. 'E never tol' us. She's 'ated 'im ever since."

"I don't know if I'd say she hates him," Will said.

"No," Jack said softly, "more like too afraid to allow 'im ta get close ta 'er again."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

**AN:** Yay! I've updated again! I think this is the fastest I've updated in a long time. I hope you all enjoyed it! Now, I do have a one-shot written that does dwell into the past a little. If you would like me to post it, please, let me know! Anyway, I hope you all liked it!

**Obsetress:** Don't worry. My life revolves around people updating to. I have nothing better to do than to read what people write. I love reading these things. They're so much fun! I hope you enjoyed!

**Arein: **Hmm . . . that's a very good question. Unfortunately, I can't reveal that right now. I think Emory just has really big issues about him. After all, he did try to kill her.

**Dawnie-7: **Yeah. Poor Rebecca. That captain sure has it out for her. Just wait until you see what happens next. Hehehehehehe . . .

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Wow. I think I've really come to enjoy reading your reviews. They are always so long and insightful. Now, on to responding to them: I'm so glad that you like to ponder, because you know I like to leave you guys with cliffhangers. As for Tristan being the key, you'll just have to wait and find out. I believe almost everything will be revealed soon. And this one has more mystery and suspense? Really? I had no idea. I just like to leave people guessing. I thank you. I thought that the quote was perfect for the chapter too. I found that I can't get enough of that band now and I wind up listening to that song over and over and over. I thought those lyrics went along really well. I'm glad you liked the story behind the tattoo. I had to find a way to make him be . . . ohp. Almost gave too much away. XP I hope you enjoyed.

**Euterpe: **Wow. Thank you very much! Um, no, Jack isn't hiding his age well. He actually isn't aging at all. I should have made that more clear. The thing is, none of the crew on the _Pearl_ is aging. That reason, and along with a lot of the others, will be revealed later. I can't let any of it out now or else it will give away the rest of the story. I'm glad that you like Tristan; he's such a fun character to write! Him and Emory both. I have given some of the reasons for the betrayal out already, but the rest of it will be revealed in the next few chapters!

**Kantgetdizgrl: **Thank you so much! I greatly appreciate it! I'm glad that you like Tristan. Everyone really seems to enjoy him. But, just wait until later . . .


	10. Villains Revealed

_"What lies ahead of us and what lies behind us are small compared to what lies within us."_

_Stan Lee_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Ten: Villains Revealed**

"I'm still not sure why I agreed ta meet wit' ya."

"Because, Captain, I know what you are looking for," he answered, smirking. "Or rather, who."

"Do ye now?"

"Yes. I also know who you are. I can help you find her. All I ask in return is a chance to get at her myself."

The captain's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why should I give ya anythin'?"

"Your blood calls for her, doesn't it?" he asked. "There is a longing for her that needs to be satisfied. The girl in the next cabin almost ended it, didn't she? Your hunger was almost satiated even though you haven't taken her.

"She isn't worth it, is she? Your captive, I mean. She's no good to you. She's useless," he paused. "But the other one, the Guardian, now she is a different story.

"Ever since she was born you could feel yourself being pulled towards her. The aching, the calling. You know she is the One, the one who will finally give you what you want."

"And what is that?"

The man smirked again. "The _thesaurus peritorum._"

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

_"You know," she laughed, "ya never did tell me who this Lily-Rose was."_

_Jack smirked, rolling them over, planting feather-light kisses over her skin. "No one as important as you," he replied, avoiding the question._

_"Obviously she was important enough ta get 'er name tattooed on yer chest."_

_Jack lifted her arm to his lips, kissing the tattoo that was identical to his own. "Am I important enough ta you, then, love?"_

_"You know you are, ya bloody fool. Why else would I 'ave taken yer name?"_

_Jack thought for a moment, pursing his lips. "I thought it was jus' cuz ya wanted ta settle down."_

_"If I wanted ta settle down, I would've stayed in __England__."_

_"Ya would've missed our little __midnight__ rendezvous too much Lor, ya wouldn't've been able ta stay away."_

_"Yer right," Lor whispered, pulling him down to her. "Yer too damn irresistible."_

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

"Ya should really knock before ya enter someone else's cabin," Jack said, opening his eyes slowly. "I was havin' a really good dream."

Emory snorted. "Yer one ta talk."

Jack sat up, running his hands over his face. A sloshing sound drew his attention over to Emory as she sat at his desk, her arm outstretched, a bottle of rum clenched tightly between her fingers.

"I figure ya could use a li'l pick me up," she stated simply.

Jack grinned, slowly climbing out of bed and walking over to her. He took the bottle from her, popping the cork and taking a swig from it.

"Been back ta yer ship lass? Yer first mate was three sheets ta the wind last I saw 'im."

Emory nodded. "I know. 'E gets that way when I do somethin' 'e doesn't like." She shrugged, her cold gaze going to Jack's face. "Can't blame 'im really, 'e's like the father I never 'ad."

Jack paused, the bottle hovering near his mouth. His eyes locked on hers, taking in the deep pool of anger spreading in her one, black iris and he knew that she knew.

He sighed. "You know."

"I'm not an idiot Captain Sparrow."

"'Ow'd ya find out?"

"You let it slip when we were still in Port Royal. You said Rebecca was yer daughter, which, obviously since she's supposedly my twin, would make me yer daughter as well."

Jack sighed again.

"It didn't come as any surprise ta anyone else either. Course, no one else may've caught it. What really amazed me was that Tristan knew. He was the one who allowed me ta really understand."

"I take it 'e told ya earlier tonight?" Jack asked, placing the bottle on the desk.

"Despite what my overly concerned first mate might believe, nothin' 'appened. I don't trust Tristan."

"But you've trusted everythin' 'e's told ya about everythin' that's 'appenin' now."

Emory stared over at him, all emotion emptying from her eyes. Jack wondered for a moment how she could have gotten eyes like that. Such odd eyes, the likes of which he had never seen before. And then it hit him.

"A sparrow will hold the key," he whispered, fingering his braided beard.

"What?"

Jack shook his head. "Nothin'."

Emory continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing. There was something he wasn't telling her, something that he wanted to hide from her. Again.

"I never entirely trusted ya before, Cap'n Sparrow," she started. "There was always somethin' you weren't tellin' me, somethin' you were always hidin' from me.

"First it was that I was yer child, which apparently means somethin' important. Then it was whatever was inside the box that ya jus' 'ad ta 'ave. Now it's whatever this is," Emory paused. "Tell me, Cap'n Sparrow, 'ow is it that I'm still supposed ta trust ya when yer never truthful wit' me?"

Jack gazed over at her, taking in her cold eyes and expressionless face. "'Ow'd ya get like this?"

Emory drew back slightly, her eyebrows furrowing. "Like what?"

"Yer so angry love. So cold."

Emory's eyes flicked away from his penetrating gaze, wandering around his cabin. Her gaze took in the various maps hanging on the walls, her eyes reading the titles of the many books lining his shelves.

She turned her attention back to him moments later. "What do ya want me ta say Sparrow? That I'm like this because of 'ow I was raised in Tortuga? Well I 'ave news fer ya. I wasn't _raised_ in Tortuga, I _survived_ it.

"My mother-the woman who raised me-died when I was five. I lived for the next ten years on the streets picking pockets and stealing food. One of Amora's clients took pity on me, training me in how to use the sword whenever he was around, which wasn't often."

Emory paused for a moment, running a hand through her tangled hair. "It wasn't until the bloody bastard who used ta be cap'n of me ship tried ta grope me, that my life turned around."

"You were fifteen then?" Jack interrupted.

Emory nodded. "Aye."

"And ya became captain?"

"No. Well, not really. Conway served as a temporary cap'n fer about three years, teachin' me everythin' I needed ta know about bein' a pirate cap'n, which included never trustin' anyone."

"Ya can't go through life like that love."

"Yer one ta talk Sparrow. You don't trust anyone either," Emory replied, taking a drink from the bottle she held in her hand.

"Sure I do," Jack countered. "I trusted yer mum with my life. An' I trust Will an' Elizabeth an' their kids. Most of all I trust my crew. They've been with me through everythin'."

"But ya didn't trust me enough ta tell me I was yer daughter?"

Jack sighed, scratching an old scar on his bare chest. "There were more factors ta that then you know. There're other factors that _I_ don't even know about, prophecy's and keys. Things that I can't explain, but things that all seem ta tie inta me bein' a part of this bloody mess. I'm a part of the same bloody curse that Lor was."

Emory narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What're ya talkin' about?"

In reply, Jack stood up slowly and walked behind her, lifting up an ornate wooden box off of one of the bookshelves lining the wall. He placed the box in front of her, dropping a key into her lap. Emory looked up at him, one eyebrow arching slightly.

"What is it?"

Jack sat back down, taking a long drink from his own bottle. "Remember the box I needed from Kingston?" Emory nodded slowly. Jack pointed down at the box in front of her. "That's it."

Emory stared down at it, her fingers brushing the delicately carved lid. The carving portrayed a dragon flying over images of ships, stormy seas tossing them about. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"It was yer mum's. That was 'er father's symbol, one she adopted as 'er own." He gave a sad smile. "Open it."

Emory lifted the key from her lap, staring down at the gold figure of a dragon head, its tongue becoming the base of the key. She slid the prongs into the keyhole and turned it, listening to the 'click' that sounded when the lock opened.

She looked up at Jack before she lifted the lid, gazing into his own sad expression. Emory inhaled sharply, and then opened the box. A musty smell hit her nose, an old smell that had been locked in the wooden box. Her mismatched eyes took in the contents of the box immediately. A simple gold ring sat atop an old tattered book.

Emory lifted the ring out slowly, a thin gold chain following. Her fingers traced the simple ring and her heart began to pound. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she became dizzy. Laughter echoed in her ears, a musical laugh that she had only heard in her dreams. A sadness erupted in her next, followed once again by laughter and an emotion that she could only describe as hope.

"Was this hers?" she whispered.

From the corners of her eyes she could see Jack nod. "Aye. I gave it to 'er when she was seven," he replied softly.

Emory gave a slight smile. "You knew 'er that long?"

"Aye."

Emory nodded, placing the ring and necklace gently down on the desktop. She turned her attention to the old book, the last item in the box. She lifted it slowly, carefully, getting the feeling that it was as old as her if not older. The thick cover was blank, its corners bent in slightly. The binding was well worn as if it had been read countless of times by unknown people.

She flipped the cover open, her eyes taking in the yellowed pages and thin handwritten lettering. _A History_ was all the small script said, giving no hint as to what the book could possibly be about. Emory turned the page, her eyes glancing at the words.

"Don't read it here," Jack said, pulling her from her thoughts. "Read it later in yer own cabin. It may 'ave the answers ya want, but it may also put more questions in yer mind. You should go now anyway. It's gettin' late an' we leave early in the mornin'. We 'ave another ship ta catch up to."

"Do you know where it's 'eaded?" she asked, placing the items carefully back into the wooden box.

Jack shook his head. "No, but I will."

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Two figures slept on different ships, and yet, by some strange occurrence that neither would ever be able to understand, their breathing came in the same rhythm. Their hearts beat at the same time, their muscles twitched in the exact same moment that their eyes clenched tightly in sleep.

The two sleeping figures, both alike in blood and heritage, for some unknown reason, dreamed the same dream.

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

_Laughter echoed in the large cavern. The laugh threw chills down Emory's spine though she didn't know why. Little did she know, though, that Jack saw the same cave, heard the same laughter._

_They were both standing in the same cavern although neither one could see the other. Before both of their eyes, a figure began to appear in front of them, the laughter booming louder in their ears. As soon as Emory's eyes fell on the full figure of the man, his scars and black eyes, she fell to her knees, a banshee scream drowning out the laughter. Her hand clutched her chest-_Pain. Death. Anger. Life. Rebirth.-_a stabbing, burning ache coursing through her._

_Jack, on the other hand, bore a different experience entirely. The moment the man materialized, the moment his face became clear, Jack's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in fury. He knew this man._

_"You will not run from me!" the man yelled, his voice sending more stabbing pains through Emory's body, although her eyes could never leave the man in front of her._

_Emory began to fall back, her vision going black, at the same time that Jack lunged forward, his eyes blazing with unspoken rage._

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

The two figures jolted awake at the same exact moment in time, their breathing labored. The woman's hand flew up to her neck, her fingers clenching around the gold ring that hung on the simple chain that rested on her hot skin. The man, however, clutched at his head, biting back the scream of anger that threatened to tear from his throat.

Jack and Emory both stared sightlessly around their darkened cabins, only one word, one name, filtering out through numb lips.

"Skinner."

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

**AN: **Yay to another chapter! Woohoo! I'm so proud. I hope you all enjoyed. And, I have decided that the next thing I will post is the one-shot that I let you all know about. It's going to be a filler chapter basically, seeing as I have a long chapter to write ahead of me that I have like three different key parts to write. And I can't post the chapter until I have them completely written, so it may take me awhile.

Oh, yeah, and were you shocked?

**Dawnie-7: **Yeah, you really do need to give him credit. He'll just keep trying no matter what she does to him.

**Evil Duckie of the BlackLagoon: **I hope you liked what was in the box. Those are some key parts for the main plot. It's going to be very interesting to say the least . . .

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I have to say I enjoy reading your reviews every time. And you could never clog up too much review space; it's always a pleasure to read what you have to say! I'm glad that you liked the part with Tyler; I figured I needed to tie up their story a little. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

**Arein: **Boy, you just keep asking questions that I can't answer. Every time. That answer, too, shall be answered in time. I promise. : P

**Kantgetdizgrl: **I'm glad you like Tristan still. And, I picture it the same way. I don't remember who I had decided he looked like, but I remember he was cute. And, unfortunately, I can't say if he turns evil or not, that would just give away way too much!

**Blossomlite: **Yay, a new reader! I love to get new readers. I'm glad you like it so far, and I hope I continue to like it!

**Obsetress: **I wouldn't say that she's afraid of Tristan; it's more along the lines of that she just doesn't trust him. After all, he did try to kill her without giving a reason as to why. There will be more information given on his past and who he really is. Hope you continue to read!


	11. Demon Called Deception Oneshot

**AN: **Okay, here it is! The one-shot that I told all of you about. It takes place a few months before the story. I hope all of you like it! This is basically just a filler chapter for until I can finish writing the next chapter.

P.S. I will respond to all reviews in the next chapter of DCD.

Demon Called Deception (One-shot)

She watched him from a distance, her mismatched eyes following his every move. She watched as he walked from table to table, talking to each of the different table's inhabitants in a low tone. She brought the large mug of rum that she had been nursing for the past two hours to her lips, taking a swig out of it and continued to stare at him from over the rim of the mug.

"Find somethin' interestin', eh, Cap'n?" a gruff voice said in front of her.

Captain Emory Wyatt looked up at the average-sized man as he stepped up to her, impeding her view of the man she had been following with her eyes. "Not really, Mr. Conway, just enjoying the quiet."

Conway turned around slightly, taking in the raucous noise surrounding him. Men argued around him, their voices blending in with the other loud noises and bar brawls that were prominent in the _El Pirata y El Perico_. Women talked loudly, their voices laden with the drink as they sat on the bar tenant's laps, their arms wrapped lazily around the men's necks. Conway turned back around to look down at his captain, a grin widening on his grizzled face. "If you say so, lass."

One corner of Emory's lip curled up in a smile as she took another swig of her drink. She gestured at the chair in front of her, "Sit, Mr. Conway, share a drink."

The hair on the back of her neck bristled, causing her to look behind her. A long haired man sat a few tables behind her, his tri-corned hat resting lazily on his head. His dark eyes gazed into hers, seemingly measuring her soul. He tipped his hat at her, a small smile gracing his lips, a flash of gold greeting her eyes. The man looked familiar to her, but Emory knew that she had never met him before. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she stared at him for a moment more, and then turned back to face her friend.

Conway nodded silently and sat down completely unaware that she had turned her attention away from him, motioning to a light haired bar maid. Minutes later, the woman brought a mug of rum to him, a suggestive smile on her face. He shook his head slowly, turning his attention back to his captain. The woman walked away, a small pout finding its way to her round face. Emory's eyes flicked past him, scanning the room once again for the dark haired man that she had been watching, but he had disappeared from her sight. She sighed, pushing a strand of her red-black hair behind her ear.

"What is it, lass?"

Emory's eyes flicked back to Conway. His green eyes held concern in them, concern at what, she didn't know. "Nothin'," she replied, another grin developing on her face. "What about you? I thought you would've jumped at a chance to have some fun the first night of your shore leave."

Conway shrugged slightly. "Still got three nights left, lass, no need ta rush it. 'Sides, I'd rather spend the night talkin' with me captain."

"I second that motion," a light, female voice said from their right. Emory and Conway looked up to find a tall, brown haired woman standing next to their table, a mug of rum in her hand. The woman's white shirt hung open to mid-chest, the strings on the flaps tied loosely. She wore a long sword at her waist and Emory could vaguely make out a belt wrapped around her right leg, full of small throwing daggers. The woman sat down heavily, sighing into her mug. "The men in this place are _so_ boring."

Emory laughed. "So glad to see that yer enjoyin' yer holiday, Destiny."

Destiny waved her hand in the air, the mug of rum splashing about. "It's not to say that I'm not enjoying myself, Captain, it's just that we need to get some more exciting men. The men here are only drunken louts who have nothing on their minds but cheap women and rum."

Emory laughed again. "Like yer any different, lass," she paused, her eyes narrowing. "Except for perhaps the whole 'cheap women' thing."

Destiny shook her head, taking another drink from her mug. "You are such a bitch," she replied, staring up into her captain's eyes. Emory's one light eye brightened as a smile broke out over her face.

"I appreciate that, lass, really I do. But perhaps you should be nice to yer captain unless you wish for her to make you swab the deck for the rest of yer natural born life," she answered, her black eye growing darker.

Destiny smiled as she caught the look in her captain's eyes. Emory was the only person that she had ever known whose eyes were so oddly colored. One of her eyes was of a bright gold, the other a dark black. She could always see what mood her captain was in when her eyes changed colors. Destiny could tell when Emory was angry because her black eye grew as dark as the deepest fathom in the ocean. When happy, or excited, her gold eye brightened until it was an almost pale yellow.

"Ah, Captain, I was just joking, you know that," Destiny replied, staring Emory directly in her eyes.

Emory merely stared at her over the mug of rum that she had just placed at her lips. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, showing that she was smiling slightly to herself. She lowered her mug again as a familiar shadow crossed her line of sight. Her head jerked to her left, her eyes once again tracing the tavern to find the man that she had been watching earlier that evening. Moments later, she caught sight of him.

Emory's eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth turning down in a frown. She pushed the mug away from herself and stood up slowly, pushing her chair away from the small wooden table. Her crew looked up at her, confused expressions on their faces. She glanced down at them, allowing a fake smile to cross her face. "I think I'll turn in now mates, long day ahead of me tomorrow," she said in answer to their questioning looks.

"What're ya gonna do, raid Tortuga?" Conway asked sarcastically, glaring down into his empty mug of rum.

Emory laughed and pushed her half-empty mug toward him. Conway offered her a lopsided grin in return. "I'll see you two in the morning if yer on the ship when I rise," she said, turning her back on them and losing herself among the crowd of drunken men and women, her eyes once again searching the tavern for the dark haired man.

--------------------------------

Emory walked down the darkened Tortuga street, her eyes keeping track of the man that walked ahead of her. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him avoid a group of men and women in the street, and then duck under an awning in an old decrepit building. Emory ducked into an alleyway across from the building that he had entered, her eyes staring hard at the door, waiting for him to leave the old building.

--------------------------------

_Emory Wyatt woke slowly, a sharp pain echoing in her side. She sat up in her bed, her eyes squeezed shut. Her hand flew to her side, clutching the small wound that she bore. A pair of rough fingers gripped her shoulder as she clutched the coarse sheets of her bed. "Take it easy, lass," a gruff voice whispered in her ear._

_She sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the sharp pain. "Tristan?" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper._

_Conway__ snorted derisively. "In the brig, where 'e belongs, Cap'n."_

_Emory sucked in a shuddering breath. "I need ta see 'im, need ta talk ta 'im."_

_Conway__ snorted again. "I don' think ya need ta even think about 'im, 'e doesn't even deserve ta be alive."_

_"There has ta be a reason, Mr. Conway. I need ta find out why he did this. I need ta find out why he would. . ." she replied, swinging her legs slowly over the edge of her bed._

--------------------------------

Emory's eyes trailed after the dark figure as he exited the old building. He glanced up, his eyes glaring into the shadows covering the street. Her heart leapt slightly as she thought that he had seen her, but then she let out the small puff of breath that she had been holding when he turned away from her and walked away, once again blending into the rowdy crowd.

Emory waited for a moment, and then exited the alleyway, following him at a safe distance. She watched as he dodged a pair of brawling men, both drunk and oblivious to the world around them. He stopped for a moment, talking to an old man and then once again started his walk through the darkened streets. She continued to follow him, staring only at him, ignoring the rest of the world around her.

--------------------------------

_Emory walked slowly down the wooden steps to the small brig of her ship, the _Silent Whisper. _A pair of pirates, twin brothers, guarded the small caged-in cell. They glanced up at her as she hobbled down, __Conway__ helping her with his arm around her waist. "Cap'n," they said in unison, inclining their heads to her slightly._

_Emory gave a weak smile. "'m all right, mates. Now, I need a moment with our prisoner."_

_The pirates looked over at her, and then at __Conway__, their eyes holding a question that they didn't dare ask. Conway nodded slowly, sitting Emory down on a large barrel of rum in front of the cell. Beckoning to the two younger men, he exited the small deck, climbing back up the stairs, the brothers following close behind him. _

_She sat for a moment, simply staring at the male form sitting across from her, his grey eyes staring back up at her. Emory watched him, watched as he shifted his position under her gaze, seemingly not moved by the anger radiating from her eyes._

_"Are you just going to sit there and glare, Emory?" the man said softly._

_"You have lost the privilege to call me by my name. From here on out, you will call me captain."_

_The man smirked. "You'll have to excuse me, Captain, I forget my manners. Now, is there something that you needed?"_

_Emory was silent for a moment. "I need to know why. Why you would do something like this."_

_"It was nothing personal, Captain, I assure you. It was strictly business."_

--------------------------------

The hairs on the back of Emory's neck bristled. She turned her head slightly to glance behind her. The old man that she had noticed previously was staring at her back, his old, pale green eyes boring into her. Her eyes locked onto his for a moment. _I know who you are,_ his eyes seemed to say.

Emory's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned back around to face the man that she had been following. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, noticing that the streets had become considerably darker as they made their way deeper into the dangerous streets of Tortuga. Light from the torches along the street seemed to be swallowed by the deepening shadows.

Suddenly, a slight shiver ran down her spine. Something wasn't right here. They were heading in too deep.

--------------------------------

_"Believe me, Tristan, it was personal. You led me to believe . . . you let me think that. . . God Tristan, you betrayed me!"_

_Tristan rolled his eyes slowly, sighing. "I never swore allegiance to you Captain and I never led you to believe anything."_

_"You told me . . . you said to me. . ."_

_Tristan laughed harshly, his face becoming a cold mask. "Do you believe everything someone tells you, Captain? You are an even bigger fool than I hoped."_

_Emory's eyes hardened, both growing darker. "Perhaps I was a fool to believe you, then, but you were the fool to attack me," she said angrily. "On my ship no less, surrounded by my crew. Did you think you could get away with it?"_

_"And what do you plan to do with me now that you've captured me? Keep me locked in your brig until I die?"_

_Emory raised her chin slightly, glaring down at him from her seat on the barrel. "I plan to kill you in the most painful way imaginable, and then maybe feed your lifeless corpse to the sharks, if they'll eat you."_

_Tristan smirked, his eyes growing distant. "Do you think you could? After all, you did say the same things to me, and I'm pretty sure that you meant them."_

_"Betrayal is the worst thing you could do to a pirate, Tristan. I assure you, I can kill you."_

_"You aren't on this whole 'Hell hath no fury' thing are you? You don't frighten me, Captain. I know your secrets, your weaknesses. Your threats mean nothing to me."_

--------------------------------

Emory stopped in her tracks as the crowd around them continued to thin until there were only a few pockets of drunken people standing around them. Her eyes scanned the small crowd, taking in the few men and women who actually cared to look over at her. Her hand wrapped lightly around the handle of her sword, preparing for anything, or anyone, that tried to attack her.

The people who had actually glanced up at her looked back down and continued whatever business that they had been doing previously. One man started to walk toward her slowly, a leer evident on his face. Emory shook her head, her eyes darkening dangerously. She lifted the blade slightly out of its sheath, clenching the handle in her hand, warning him that she would use it if he came near. The smirk left the man's face as he stepped back into the dark corner he had appeared from.

Emory turned her attention back to the man ahead of her. He had seemed to slow his pace, as if he were waiting for her to catch him, as if he knew she was there. Her hand went to the area of the small scar that hid beneath her black shirt, a shiver once again running down her spine. Something was definitely not right.

--------------------------------

_Emory turned over in her sleep, her eyes tightening as she pulled at the small stitches in her wound. A loud banging on her cabin door pulled her out of her dreamless sleep. "Come in," she called out, her voice clogged with sleep. _

_The door opened quickly to reveal __Conway__'s tanned face. "Cap'n," he started. "Cap'n, he's gone."_

_Emory bolted upright, grimacing as she pulled her wound once again. "What do ya mean he's gone, Mr. Conway? How could he have escaped?"_

_Conway__ shrugged, making his way to his captain's side to help her out of her bed. "Don't know, lass. He knocked Gibbins and Myrney out somehow and grabbed their keys. Got off the ship and into the port before any of us knew what had happened. I've got Launch and Bolt out looking fer 'im. They'll search all o' __Tortuga__ until they find 'im."_

_Emory shook her head slowly. "They won't find 'im Mr. Conway. He'll be long gone by now."_

_"We should still try lass."_

_Emory shrugged slightly, looking down at her hands. "Whatever ya wish, mate. But when next I see 'im, I will kill 'im."_

--------------------------------

The shadows darkened as she left the second street that they had gone down. Emory's eyes scanned these shadows, searching for any signs of an attack. Her fingers brushed against the handle of her sword again, waiting for the man in front of her to turn around and look at her. The crowd around them thinned out further until there was no one left, no man, woman, or animal hid in the darkness to leap out at her.

The last light from a single torch flickered above her, causing her to look up into the dark sky suddenly. The sound of footsteps ahead of her stopped, forcing Emory to stop as well. Her eyes glanced ahead of her at the still figure that stood in front of her. Her hand gripped the hilt tighter, her other hand reaching for the pistol that hung on the weapons belt that was slung across her chest.

Emory noticed no movement from the man. He didn't even reach for any of the many weapons that she knew he had hidden among his clothes. Her patience wearing thin, she pulled out her pistol, aiming it at him. "Turn around," she said, her voice taking on an impatient tone. "I know who you are, so just turn around."

"If you know who I am, then why should I turn around?" the man asked, and Emory could hear amusement laced in his smooth voice.

"Just to be sure. After all, I did swear to kill you the next time I saw you. I would hate to kill an innocent man," she replied, her eyes darkening to match the dark street that they stood on.

The man lifted his arms slowly, allowing them to hover in mid-air next to his face. He turned around slowly, a small grin hovering over his lips. Emory's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed as anger crept into her gaze. "Tristan," she whispered.

"The one and only, Emory."

Emory glared over at him, raising her pistol higher to where it aimed right between his eyes. "I never gave you permission to call me that again. Or did you forget our conversation from two years ago?"

Tristan laughed. "Oh no, I remember it all too well. I also seem to remember you telling me that you would feed my lifeless corpse to the sharks," he paused slightly, the grin on his face widening, "if they would eat me."

A cruel smirk graced her lips. "I seem to recall that. And I recall you running away before I could make due on my threat."

Tristan's hand touched his chest lightly, feigning injured pride. "You wound me with your words, Captain. You better than anyone knows that I never run away."

"Then you'll just stand still and be a good boy for me? You won't run away and make me chase you?" Emory asked, her smirk growing wider, her head tilting to the side. "I still plan on killing you."

"Good luck on that, my dear," he answered, and reaching into his white shirt, quickly pulled out three small throwing daggers. The weapons flew through the air at her, aiming directly for her heart.

Emory dodged the daggers easily, cocking her pistol as she ducked behind the large barrel that stood just to her right. She placed her back to the barrel and leaned over the side to look around the wood. Tristan stood exactly where he had been, glaring at the spot where she was hiding. Emory jumped to her feet quickly aiming her pistol again and firing. The bullet whizzed past Tristan as he ducked to avoid being hit.

Emory ducked behind the barrel again, trying to load her weapon as fast as she could. "You really should watch your back more often, Captain," a voice said above her.

Emory looked up, gazing straight into Tristan's flashing eyes, his own pistol aimed directly above her head. "Then shoot," she whispered, anger radiating out of her own eyes. Tristan's eyes narrowed slightly as an odd look crossed his face, an emotion that Emory could not recognize. A sudden shot rang out in the empty street, causing Tristan to jump backwards, his arm getting grazed by the bullet as he landed in a slight crouch.

"I wouldn't take that shot if I were you, lad," a gruff voice called out.

Emory looked up, her gaze streaking down the dark street. Conway stood just in front of her, his pistol drawn and smoking. Destiny stood just to his left, her sword resting in one of her small hands and her other hand full of throwing daggers. Destiny's eyes were hard as she glared over at her captain and the man standing behind her.

Tristan straightened up slowly, once again a small grin evident on his shadowed face. In one quick movement, he once again reached into his vest and withdrew a long dagger. Before he could attack, Emory lunged at him, brandishing her sword and attacking him in one swift movement. Tristan unsheathed his sword at the same time that she swung her own blade, blocking her blow.

He pushed against her, making her step away from him. The two swords rang against each other, echoing in the still night. Emory swung at him again, her hard eyes watching as he parried her blow, attacking with one of his own. Tristan swung at her again, causing her to step back. She parried his swing, sidestepping quickly to avoid his next attack.

A sharp sting in her arm caused Emory to look down at the small gash that had just opened up from Tristan's attack with his dagger. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she swung at him again, knocking his dagger from his hand. The small weapon flew from his hand, landing in the dust a few feet from where they fought. She kept her eyes locked on his, staring into his grey eyes. The two dueled against each other, neither one holding back their blows, neither one willing to give in.

Tristan pushed against her shoulder, causing her to twist around, her blade sparking against his. He attacked again, swinging his sword at her back, but Emory stepped away, just barely missing the sharp tip of his blade. She turned back around, once again swinging her sword at her opponent. Tristan once again parried her blow, blocking her weapon from striking him.

Emory looked up at him, noticing the faint change in his eyes once again. His eyes seemed softer now then they had looked only moments ago. Before Emory could pull her sword away from his and attack again, Tristan pulled her to him with his free arm, their swords locked together just below their chins. He pulled her up to him, pressing his lips roughly to hers in a brief emotion-filled kiss.

Emory's eyes widened, but before she could do anything, Tristan kicked her away from him, pushing her forcefully a few feet backward and causing her to fall on her back in front of the two members of her crew. A dagger whizzed above her face, heading straight for the retreating back of Tristan as he turned and started to run off into the darkened night. She watched as the weapon sailed past him, hitting the wall of a nearby building as he ran quickly away from the three pirates. The dagger stuck in the wall, the only evidence left of the man that had previously been standing there.

Emory continued to stare into the empty space where Tristan had disappeared moments earlier. A pair of hands grabbed hold of her arms, pulling her to her feet. "We should go after 'im, Cap'n. 'E can't have gone far."

Emory shook her head slowly, the fingers of her right hand touching her lips lightly. "No, Mr. Conway. He won't be found until he wants to be. We probably won't see him for awhile."

"And if you do see him?" Destiny asked, sheathing her blade and making her way to retrieve the dagger that she had thrown.

A smirk crossed Emory's face. "We'll just have to see. If it comes to that, we'll just have to see."


	12. A History

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Eleven: A History**

Emory sat quietly on her bed, her breath coming in short ragged gasps. Her hands were pressed against her eyes, her head throbbing. The banshee wail still echoed in her ears; the anger and pain still coursing through her body. The name echoed in her mind though she did not know why. She had never heard of this person, this Skinner. And she wasn't sure why he invoked such fear in her.

Never before in her life had she felt such fear. Not even when she was alone on the streets of Tortuga.

A hand touched her shoulder lightly, causing her to jump and pull away. Her off colored eyes flew open, meeting the eyes of the person that had touched her. Relief flooded her as she caught Tristan's gaze. Realization struck her and she pushed her relief away, attempting to replace it with anger or bitterness.

"What are you doing here?" Emory snapped.

Tristan's eyes betrayed his worry even though his face remained calm. "You screamed," he stated simply.

Emory rubbed her eyes and then flinched when she felt his fingers touch her left cheek.

"You were dreaming," he muttered, his worried eyes gazing into hers. "I can see it in your eyes, in your face. You were having a nightmare."

"Yer observant," she muttered.

"Why did you scream? Was it that bad?"

"Why should I tell you Connors?"

"You have me worried Wyatt," he replied.

Emory laughed bitterly. "I'm sure ya are. Just as ya were two years ago when ya shot me. No, Tristan. I'm not gonna trust you again. I'm not gonna let ya get close. You'll only betr . . ."

Emory was cut off by a soft kiss. It wasn't a rough kiss, like the one he had given her a little over a week ago, but it was full of all of his passion nonetheless. Tristan's hand still cupped her cheek, his other hand running through her hair.

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on hers, his brown hair falling against her skin.

"I won't do this again," she whispered.

"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up."

Emory did not reply at first, her eyes locking on his. "Tell me, Tristan, have you ever felt death?"

Tristan pulled away, confused. He was not sure how to reply. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever felt death? Have you ever felt His cold hands grip you and refuse to let go?"

Tristan was silent, contemplating her words. Finally he shook his head. "No. But I've been close to people who have died."

"Then you could never understand my dream, my nightmare. It was the same as in Port Royal when I saw that ship," she shuddered. "The scream an' the overwhelming sense of death and anger."

She sighed, her hand unconsciously going to the chain hanging around her neck, playing with it between her fingers. Tristan's eyes narrowed as he watched her.

Quickly, he pulled the ring from her grasp, holding it in the palm of his hand.

"Where did you get this?"

Emory pulled back. "From Sparrow. 'E gave me this along with a book . . ." she trailed off, her eyes losing focus. "The book. Damn."

Tristan stared at her, confused, as she jumped up from her bed and walked quickly to her desk, opening the box and pulling out an old, tattered book. Emory plopped down into her high-backed chair, flipping open the ancient cover.

Tristan watched as her eyes flicked over the words of the book. "You said yer tied ta the bloody map too, correct?"

Tristan's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Aye."

"Then listen," she replied and then began to read.

'**A History:**

**_Thesaurus Peritorum_**

Legends tell of an island lost in Time; an island that has been all but forgotten in the space of mere centuries. Some believe that the island never existed; that perhaps it was merely a story told to little children. But that was not the case. The island itself had merely become Lost.

The inhabitants of this _Insula Peritorum_, or Island of the Lost, had been acolytes of the Greek God Chronos, the Titan of Time. He bestowed upon them the ultimate gift. A gift that if misused could alter reality itself. He gave them the gift of Time itself in the form of a simple silver band.

It is said that for hundreds of years the Lost lived in peace, the King ruling with the power of Time at his side. The gift was used only in dire times; never used for one's personal gain. Until, that is, a man known only as Titus overthrew the King, taking the gift for himself.

Titus used the gift Chronos gave them to make himself an absolute ruler. It is said that he attempted to change Time itself, attempted to alter History to where he himself could become a God.

The islanders, fearing the wrath of Chronos, rose up against Titus in a war that is said to have waged for forty years. The war did not end until a woman who had come to be known as Prisis tricked Titus into using the gift on himself, making him believe that it would make him stronger; more powerful than before. But Time can be a fickle friend.

This gift of Time became a curse for Titus, destroying him; leaving no trace of him but the thin silver band of Time.

This History tells of how the people of the _Insula Peritorum_ hid the gift away in a place where it could never be found. They placed a heavy burden on Prisis, she being the one who was able to save them all. They forced her to become the Guardian of the Lost, branding a magic-laden map across her back.

Prisis' lover was blinded, since he had been with the Elders as they buried the _Thesaurus Peritorum_, making sure that neither he nor Prisis could ever find their way to wherever it had been hidden. He was then made her Protector, a man who would defend her from any harm. Her lover's senses had been heightened from his warrior training throughout his life, giving him the uncanny ability to be able to sense an attack before it happened. They were then exiled, sent off to live in a world that had not been visited in over three centuries.

Days after Prisis was exiled, the island disappeared, becoming forever lost in Time.'

Emory stopped reading, her eyes scanning the hand-written words. Tristan waited silently as she skimmed the words, waiting for her to continue.

Finally he stood up and walked over to her. He placed his hands on the wooden desk, staring down at her. "Is that it?" he asked.

Emory did not look up. "No. Listen."

'In my travels to find any clues to the location of this Lost Island, of these lost people, I stumbled upon a small village on the outskirts of an old Greek ruin. The villagers told me that at one time it had been a temple for the God Chronos.

Inside the temple I found the most peculiar of writings. It was a prophecy of sorts, written in a form of archaic Greek that I had not seen before. For months I studied the writing with the help of the local villagers, and with the help of my own knowledge of the Greek language.

When I began to believe that there was no hope in ever deciphering the prophecy, I finally had a breakthrough.

The letters seemed to have been written in a form of Greek that pre-dated even the archaic version that I knew. When I deciphered the text, I was able to read the following message:

Mother hear,   
The father dies,   
Revealing Life's enemy.   
He brings you fear, he brings you pain.   
To find what has been Lost,   
His blood will mix with Time.

Mother find,   
Your Protector of blood,   
Your Life's love.   
The ancient arrival of betrothal.   
Watch for the sparrow,   
For it shall reveal the missing link of Past and Future.

Mother be warned,   
For unknown pains approach.   
What once was one shall split in two,   
Dividing the blood of old.   
The treasure Lost will not be found,   
Until the Key is born.

Two children born,   
Of blood divide.   
One born to bear witness,   
To the rising of the Past.   
One born to bear the Key,   
Hidden in the blood of old, and unseen eyes.

Child be warned,   
For treason lingers.   
The eyes of fate have fallen on you.   
The line has broken,   
Your equal is taken.   
The Missing has called.

Child listen,   
Your Protector nears,   
The Key is born in you.   
Your mothers enemy,   
Now becomes your own.   
A bird in flight will fall.

Child take heed,   
For Time will still.   
Your blood and key will set in motion,   
The Prophecy of Ages.   
The Treasure Lost shall now be found,   
And held by your own hands.

But be warned you both,   
For the enemy is near.   
He holds the Treasure with bated breath.   
Your loss shall be his gain.   
For if you miss this enigma,   
Time will all but stop.

I found this message confusing at first until I translated the last word at the end. It simply read: 'Prisis'. I could not believe my luck! I had found a prophecy written in Prisis' own hand. I had discovered the last words written in a language that had not been used in hundreds of years.

While I still could not fully understand the prophecy, I could only believe that it had something to do with the legends of the _Insula Peritorum_. Perhaps Prisis had been trying to warn of when the _Thesaurus Peritorum_ would be found again. But I cannot be sure.

When I spoke later with the village elders, I learned more about the history of this Lost Island and of Prisis and her lover. It is said that they bore only one child; a daughter. Prisis was said to have died in childbirth; passing on the mark to her daughter.

This, I was told, occurred for several generations until one year the young girl bearing the map disappeared, leaving for parts unknown.'

Emory stopped again, shutting the book slowly. Finally she looked up at Tristan, her eyes confused.

"I don't understand," she said. "What the hell is this supposed ta mean?"

Tristan shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm just as confused as you are."

Emory's eyes met his as a thought crossed both of their minds.

"Sparrow."

* * *

"Do we have an agreement then, Captain Skinner?"

Skinner looked up, one eye twitching slightly. "Tell me again what's in it fer you?"

The stranger smiled and shrugged. "Nothing but a chance to get back at the bloodline that destroyed me. You may have mere revenge on your mind Captain, but I have some history to change."

"Why should I trust ya when I don't even know yer name?"

The man's smile widened. "You don't need to Captain," he replied, his green eyes twinkling. "All you need to know is that her blood calls to me as well. She can help us both. We can finally attain what we both desire. This blood, this sparrow, will finally be the key to our salvation."

* * *

"I have thought about your question Mrs. Turner," Thomas Norrington started. He sat down in the chair she offered and sighed, a heavy sigh from someone with a lot on his mind.

"And your answer, Mr. Norrington?" Elizabeth asked, sitting down in a chair across from him.

Thomas did not reply at first, his eyes staring blankly out a window at the ocean. When he did answer it was with great sorrow. "I know that the blood of a pirate runs through her veins and that her father and mother were both enemies of the Royal Navy, but I cannot stop thinking about her. I do not care what others would think, I love her and I always will," he paused, his eyes meeting Elizabeth's. "I plan to be right here waiting for her to return Mrs. Turner. I do not plan on going anywhere."

Elizabeth stared over at him, her brown eyes revealing nothing. Finally she smiled. "I am happy to hear you say that, Mr. Norrington. You have no idea how much it pained me to believe that you would leave her because of her heritage." She reached over and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "Your father was a good man Thomas, and so are you."

Thomas smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Turner; I am grateful to you for saying so. But now I must leave you, I have a meeting with Commodore Thomson early in the morning. Please offer my regards to your daughter and nephew."

Elizabeth stood up and walked him to the door. "Thank you, I shall. I appreciate you stopping by. You have taken a great weight from my shoulders. Have a good day, Mr. Norrington, I hope tomorrow finds you well."

Thomas merely smiled and walked slowly away.

* * *

Jack sat silently in his cabin, Will sitting across from him, his expression worried.

"Are you alright Jack?" Will asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Jack gave a harsh laugh, his eyes finding their way to Will's. "Perhaps I have lad."

"What do you mean?" Will replied. Jack didn't answer. "Jack what is it?"

Jack sighed. "I know who took Rebecca," he said hesitantly. "But yer not gonna like it."

Will's back stiffened slightly at Jack's words. "Who is it?"

"Skinner."

Will's eyes narrowed slightly. "How is that possible? Lor killed him over twenty years ago. I was there Jack, I saw her kill him."

"I don't know how he's alive, but he is," Jack answered, shrugging. "I can feel it. Somehow he is back. I'm more concerned with _why_ he's back more than I am of _how_ he came back."

"Have you told Emory yet?"

Jack stood up. "No. I was goin' to at dawn before we head out." He headed towards the door, pulling on his favorite tri-corned hat. "No need ta wake 'er up now. I only saw 'er a few hours ago anyway."

"Did you know who it was then?" Will asked, standing up and following him.

"No. It sorta . . . came ta me," Jack answered, throwing open his door.

Both men stopped when they heard a dull thud and then a crash, followed by laughter and a stream of curses that should never be uttered.

Jack peered out of his door just in time to see Emory sitting on the deck, one hand holding on to her forehead, the other hand smacking away Tristan's outstretched arm. Tristan had stopped laughing but a wide smile still lit his face.

"Ya alright lass?" Jack asked, reaching out to help her up.

Emory glared at him, one hand still rubbing her head. "I'm fine," she snapped, climbing to her feet slowly.

She wobbled for a moment but quickly regained her balance, grabbing hold of the door.

"Yeah, you look fine," Tristan responded.

"Maybe you should sit down love," Jack said, taking her by the arm and leading her slowly into the cabin. He sat her down in one of the chairs, taking her hand away and staring down at the black bruise already forming there.

His thumb brushed the bruise slightly and then pulled back when she flinched. "Yer gonna have a hell of a headache, but ye'll be alright."

"Thank you fer that observation," Emory replied sarcastically. "We need ta talk Sparrow."

Jack raised one eyebrow, staring down at her quizzically. "'Bout what?"

"Skinner."

* * *

Rebecca sat hunched over on the hard cot, her red eyes staring blankly at the cabin floor. She had found that she had no more tears to cry. She had no more tears for pain, or sorrow, or even for hope. It had been too long since she had been taken from her home and she could not shed another tear for her situation.

Rebecca could only pray that her captor, the captain of this horrible ship, would stay away from her for as long as possible. No matter how many times he beat her or questioned her, Rebecca refused to give him anymore satisfaction in seeing her cry.

She buried her head into her skirt, offering one more time a prayer asking for someone to come and save her.

* * *

"So you know where to go, right?" he asked.

"How will they get there?"

He smirked. "I shall lead them, just as I have done before. You must be there first or else none of our plans will work."

Skinner looked at him skeptically. "Why are we going there again?"

"Because, my dear Captain, that is where it all ended," he paused, "and where it will all begin again."

* * *

**AN: **Wow. I thought that it would take a lot longer to write this chapter. But seeing as I've been writing the book pages and the prophecy for over a month now, it all came pretty easily. I hope you all enjoyed it! Hope I didn't leave you hanging!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I'm sorry. I don't mean to drain your inspiration for your own story. I was never sure about the dream when I wrote it. It bothered me for some reason. I really couldn't figure out how to write it the right way. And I have to say, I think that you're the only one that reads the chapters more than once, except for me of course. I have to re-read them so that I can figure out what I wrote last time! Hope you enjoyed! And the man with the tri-corned hat in the one shot was Jack. The man she was watching in the beginning, the one walking around the tables, was Tristan.

**Obsetress: **Yeah. A lot of people had actually guessed that it was Skinner, but others hadn't. But, I just like to throw stuff in! And you'll just have to wait and see what happens between Tristan and Emory! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Dawnie-7:** I'm glad that you liked the dream. I think that was everyone's favorite part which happens to be the one part that I wasn't 100 percent sure about. Glad you're enjoying!

**Kantgetdizgrl: **The first part will be explained more later. Basically, I was just kind of introducing a second bad guy. I haven't figured out who he is yet, though. You guys will be the first to know when I find out! And "a sparrow will hold the key"? I have been saying that line since the second story. And not a single person has asked me about it until now. It really ties into the prophecy. And the items you learned about pretty much in this chapter. Except the ring was in the first story, Sui Generis. If you haven't read it, you may want to; it will help you out a lot since I'm going to talk about it a lot in this story. Hope you continue to enjoy!

**Arein: **Yes, I find it incredibly amusing that you seem to like to ask questions that I can't answer. This is technically another one. I really can't reveal if they find the treasure or not, nor can I say if they stay cursed forever. I hope you liked the update!


	13. Knowing

_"Fallen angels at my feet/ Whispered voices at my ear/ Death before my eyes/ Lying next to me I fear/ She beckons me shall I give in/ Upon my end shall I begin/ Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end."_

_Evanescence; Whisper_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Twelve: Knowing**

"So yer tellin' me that this man, this Skinner, was the guy you guys faced over twenty years ago?"

"Aye."

"An' 'e's also the guy Lor Adams killed over twenty years ago?"

"Aye."

Emory sighed. "Then 'ow the hell is he the one we're after now?"

Jack shrugged. "Don't know, but 'e is. I'm guessin' 'e's tied to the treasure jus' like the rest o' us."

"Then he's part of the Prophecy?" Tristan asked.

Jack grinned. "I take it ya read the book." He stated.

Emory nodded, her hand going to the chain around her neck. She frowned at it slightly, not remembering when she had put it on the night before. She knew it had been her moth-Lor's. She had felt that it was special when she had first touched it, first held it between her fingers.

"So then where do we go from here?" she asked.

"We don't know yet," Will answered. "We're still trying to figure that out."

Emory studied Jack for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance. His hair was messed up, as usual, his clothes rumpled. Dark bags had formed under his eyes, revealing how little sleep he'd had. She still did not know enough about him to fully trust him. There was too much that she knew he was still hiding.

"Why do you want the treasure?" she asked finally.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I don't," he replied. "But I don't want to see it in Skinner's hands either. I need ta get me daughter out o' 'is 'ands as well. After what 'e did ta Lor . . ."

"What exactly did 'e do to 'er?" Emory cut in harshly.

Jack's gaze darkened. "The kindest way ta put it love," he replied, "is he tortured her. Burned her. Beat her. Even went so far as ta skin her ta get what he wanted. He did things ta her that even _I_ don't know about; things that she wouldn't even tell me."

"For all we know," Will broke in, "he could be doing the same thing to Rebecca. Although by now I am sure that he has discovered that she does not bear the map."

"Which means he'll be tryin' ta find us." Jack stated.

"Or lead us somewhere." Tristan added.

Jack's gaze flicked to him. His eyes traced over Tristan's rugged features, taking in the small scar cutting through one of his black eyebrows. Jack's eyes locked onto Tristan's haunting, grey orbs, seeing in them something familiar, something that he could not quite put his finger on.

For some reason, Jack seemed to almost remember him, as if he had known Tristan before their first meeting all of those weeks before. A feeling nagged at him, burning in his gut. Something trying to tell him something; or perhaps try to warn him. But of what, Jack knew not.

"Why would he be doin' that?" Jack asked, the nagging sensation not leaving.

Tristan met his gaze dead on, not blinking. "How should I know?"

Will glanced at Jack from the corner of his eyes and did not like what he saw there. Jack's eyes had become steely and dark; his gaze almost cold from his hidden suspicion. Will knew that look and he knew that it was time to intervene before Jack did something that they would all regret later.

"I believe," Will began, "he means that you seem to have a lot of the answers to our questions."

Tristan shrugged. "I've been around," he stated simply.

"I'm getting a headache," Emory muttered. "I think I need a drink."

A grin that did not reach his eyes lit Jack's face as he reached under his desk and withdrew a flask. He tossed it to her, his concentration once again going to Tristan. "I think yer still hidin' somethin'." He said bluntly.

Tristan's eyes flickered slightly. "I could say the same for you."

* * *

He stared down at her still form, a cruel smirk twisting his face. She was so calm, so peaceful, sleeping there on the rough cot. His fingers played with one soft curl on her forehead, careful not to wake her. 

"It is going to be so much fun," he whispered. "I have so many plans." His grin widened. "Maybe not for you. But for your sister . . . ah yes. For your sister I will have some fun. Perhaps she will play it right."

He paused, one finger trailing lightly over her lips. "But I doubt she will scream like you would. No, she is too strong, too hard." He laughed quietly. "You are all my pawns. Who, you ask? All of you. Yes, including our dear Captain."

Rebecca stirred for a moment, rolling over onto her side, her breath escaping in a quiet sigh.

He brushed a tendril of hair away from her forehead, the tips of his fingers tracing lazily against her slowly healing bruises.

"Everything is going as planned," he whispered. "The world as you know it will be over, and my reign shall begin again." He leaned into her, his hot breath brushing against her ear. "Do not worry, my dear. Your nightmare is only just beginning."

* * *

The sun had set long ago, although Jack had not really noticed. Even though his eyes had seen it, his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts had turned to the mysterious man he had come to know as Tristan Connors; a man who seemed to have all of the answers that they needed. A man who also seemed to harbor a secret that he did not intend to share with anyone. 

Jack's instincts told him that there was more to Tristan than met the eye. There was just too much that he was hiding. Granted, Jack had his own little secrets; things that he kept even from his closest of friends. There were things that Jack could never tell anyone. Partially for fear that they would use it against him, and partially due to the fact that he'd sworn never to tell.

And yet, somehow, Tristan knew what it was. Jack would have to remind himself to ask Tristan about it later, even if he had to beat the answers out of him.

A shiver raced down Jack's spine, causing him to look over his shoulder. By the light of the moon, Jack could see the faint outline of the ship anchored closely behind his _Pearl_. If he strained his eyes he could make out the dark form of someone standing at the _Whisper's_ helm. A flicker of flame flashed in a pair of eyes, illuminating a hardened, feminine face.

Jack knew instantly who it was. No one had eyes like that; so cold, so distant. And only two others had a face like hers; one of them had died twenty years ago while the other was now being held captive by a man who was supposed to be dead. Emory was watching him, her mismatched eyes taking in his silhouetted form.

A crooked smile crossed his face as he lifted one arm in her direction, giving her a slight wave. Emory did not react at first but then lifted her arm, returning his gesture.

Jack knew that she did not trust him and he could not blame her. Not really. He had not been entirely truthful with her. It was not his fault really. Jack was one to always honor his promises. Even if they were promises to someone who had already died.

Jack would tell Emory one day. He really would. He would tell her the rest of what he knew about the map, the curse, and everything else. He sighed. But not now. Jack could tell she was not ready to learn all of it yet.

"One day." He whispered, turning back around to face his dark, quiet ship.

* * *

Tristan splashed cold water on his face, feeling the water drops drip from his chin onto his bare chest. He sighed, dipping his hands once again into the washing basin and running them through his dark hair. He trailed his hands down his face. 

Tristan wondered, for a moment, if he was doing the right thing. If perhaps he should not have gotten involved in this again. Last time it had almost gotten him killed. But then he remembered why he came back, why he risked his life once again.

It was because of her.

Even though she was the one that had almost killed him, he found he could not stay away. She intrigued him too much. Granted she hated him, or so she said. But Tristan could see something echoing in her eyes, the same thing, he knew, that was hidden in his. An emotion that she would never admit to and neither would he.

Tristan sat down on the edge of his bed, wiping his still dripping face with a dry cloth. He and Emory were two sides of the same coin. Neither one would ever admit anything to the other. Tristan knew that Emory would sooner shoot him then tell him anything.

Tristan lowered his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes. Things were going to get complicated. _Not as if they aren't already,_ he thought. Emory was like a sin to him; something that he knew he should not get involved with, but something that he could never stay away from.

Of course, Tristan knew that _he_ would never allow him to stay away. His life depended upon it.

A soft creak startled him, causing Tristan to jerk his head up quickly. His eyes widened for a moment as he noticed who stood there in front of him. Emory stood in his doorway, leaning calmly against the doorframe. Her loose, scarlet shirt was un-tucked and hanging limply off of one shoulder, revealing darkly tanned skin. Her feet were bare; one foot crossed casually over the other.

Emory's hair hung in her eyes, two small braids framing her face. A small scar underneath her left eye stood out from the rest of her skin; a small bit of pink against the bronze of her face. Her eyes, her oddly mismatched eyes, stared down at him, a strange glint buried in them.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered.

One side of her mouth turned up slightly as she stepped fully into his room, shutting the door behind her. Emory walked up to Tristan slowly, stopping just in front of him.

"May I help you with something Captain?"

Emory smirked again. She leaned down slightly, brushing her lips lightly against his. Tristan's eyebrows furrowed.

"Captain?"

Once again Emory did not reply. Instead, she trailed the tips of her fingers down his right cheek, stopping at his chin. She hooked one finger underneath his chin, raising his face up to hers. Emory leaned into him again, pressing her lips against his. Tristan was hesitant at first, unsure if she was trying to trick him. When she showed no sign of breaking away, he leaned into her, returning her kiss.

Tristan reached up slowly, wrapping his hands around her slim waist and pulling her down to straddle his lap. He could taste something on her lips, something familiar, but a substance that he could not place at first.

Minutes later he pulled away, panting from lack of air.

"I thought you hated me," he stated.

"I do," Emory whispered. "Now shut up before I change my mind," she finished, kissing him again.

Tristan pushed her away slightly, finally realizing what the taste on her lips was. "You're drunk."

Emory laughed softly. "Not yet. But I'm workin' on it," she replied, kissing the edge of his jaw.

Tristan closed his eyes, fighting for control over his body, willing it not to respond to her caresses. "You'll hate this in the morning," he whispered.

Emory looked up at him, hovering just over his lips. "Maybe," she answered. "But don't think about tomorrow. It's only just tonight."

* * *

**AN: **I'm back!!!! Wow has it been a long time. I am so sorry about the wait, but I had the extreme displeasure of writer's block. It was terrible, but I finally found a breakthrough and was able to write. I was so excited! It has taken so long to write this chapter and I hope you all like it! 

Special thanks to PineAppleLint for her input on part of this chapter! It really helped me write even more!

**Obsetress**Thank you! I'm glad that you liked the chapter. I like to make twists and turns (if you couldn't already tell!), so I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. So, did you like the scene between Emory and Tristan? Don't worry! More is on the way!

**Dawnie-7: **Wow. Thanks! I'm glad that you liked it!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I think I can live with a shorter review, but I do so love to read your long ones! Anyway, I'm glad that you like the prophecy. It took me _forever_ to write it. But I finally did. I hope you liked the update!

**Arein**Thanks! By the way, AU stands for Alternate Universe. Can I ask why you wanted to know? Just curious.

**NazgulGirl**Yay! You're back! I'm glad that you liked the chapters! I hope you enjoyed this one as well!


	14. Closer

_"Curiosity didn't kill the cat-hesitation did."_

_Jonathan LaPaglia; Seven Days_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Thirteen: Closer**

Skinner's eyes shot open, a pulsing fire burning throughout his body. A smile crossed his lips as he recognized the emotion flitting underneath his skin. Since she had been born he had been able to sense, to _feel_, all of her emotions. All of her pain, her anger, her joy, and, yes, even her lust.

And this was what he felt now.

Oh yes, his plan was working out perfectly.

* * *

_"Do you remember this place Jack?" she asked, her thin form looking so small and frail in the vast cavern they stood in._

_Dread filled his stomach as he recognized their surroundings. "Aye," he answered weakly, "I do."_

_"When I saw you standing here, seemingly all alone, my heart leapt. I was so happy," she paused, her gold eyes catching hold of his. "I mean, I knew you were here, I had felt it. But some part of me still tried to tell me that you weren't._

_"But then I saw you . . ." she trailed off, a sad smile crossing her face._

_"Lor," he whispered closing the distance between them and kissing her gently._

_Lor pushed him away after a moment, shaking her head. Her short, red hair waved slightly. "He'll do worse to her, Jack. He hasn't . . . he won't . . . there's nothing he can do to Rebecca; she doesn't know anything of value. But to Emory . . . to Emory he could do far worse. And he will. I know he will._

_"That's why you've got to stop him. You've got to stop him here. That's all I can . . . I can't . . . you need to wake up. You've got to plan. You've got to figure this out. Go. Now."_

_Lor pushed against his chest with both hands, shaving him backward. Jack lost his balance, his feet tripping over a broken stalagmite. His back hit the ground as the world around him turned to darkness.

* * *

_

"Cap'n? Cap'n are ya alright?"

Jack's eyes shot open, his trembling hand grabbing hold of the hand that was shaking his shoulder. "Lor?" he muttered.

"No Cap'n," the voice said soothingly, softly.

Jack turned his gaze to see AnaMaria standing above him, a worried look on her normally calm face. "Ya alright?"

He sat up slowly, running a hand over his face. "I'll be fine." He answered.

"You were dreamin'. I could hear ya moanin'," she paused. "Was it about Lor?"

Jack nodded, his eyes focusing on the cluttered shelves across from him. "Aye," he whispered. "An' I know where we have ta go."

* * *

Emory rolled over slowly, burying her head into the warm mound next to her. She sighed slightly, feeling content and rested. No nightmares had plagued her dreams while she slept; no visions of things that she did not understand. It had been the first peaceful night's sleep she had had in a very long time.

Something shifted underneath her cheek, causing Emory to open her eyes. A tanned chest stared back at her. A tanned chest with a black crow tattooed on it. Emory's eyes trailed slowly up from the tattoo, past the broad shoulders and elegant neck and finally stopped on the sleeping face of Tristan.

His eyes were closed in peaceful slumber, his breath escaping in short puffs through slightly parted lips. To her, he looked beautiful. And that frightened her.

For two years she had hated him. For two years she had despised what he was. Or had she? Every time she had thought about him, her heart had pounded, it's true. She was not denying that. But she had always thought that it had pounded out of anger or hatred. Perhaps, instead, it had pounded from something different?

Something that she did not care to thing about.

"What are you thinking about?" a soft voice whispered.

Emory's eyes flicked up to meet his tired gaze. "Nothing." She muttered.

Tristan sighed. "I told you that you would hate this. Just remember that I was the voice of reason in this."

"No. It's not . . . I don't . . . I just . . ." Emory stopped, sighing with frustration.

Tristan laughed quietly. "Why Captain, I believe that is the first time I have ever seen you speechless."

"Shut up," she replied.

"I'm just stating a-"

Tristan broke off as Emory pressed up against him, catching his lips with hers in a hungry kiss that stole his breath. She rolled them over, flattening her chest against his. Tristan's fingers dug into her hips as he returned her kiss with just as much passion. Her hands played across his chest, tracing small circles over his bare skin.

Minutes later she broke away, propping herself up on her hands. "I should go," she panted.

Tristan's hands did not let her go, if anything, they held her tighter. "You don't have to," he replied, brushing his lips against her jaw.

Emory sighed. "Yes, I do. Conway's gonna kill me as it is."

Tristan smirked. "He doesn't like me."

She snorted. "Would ya blame 'im? You did try ta kill me after all." She answered flatly, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Emory leaned down, reaching for her discarded pants from the night before.

Tristan's face turned somber at her words. He sat up quickly and grabbed hold of her arm, turning her roughly around to face him. Emory blinked at his actions, her eyes finding his own grey gaze.

"I would never do that again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never betray you again. You know that, don't you?"

Emory stared at him. His eyes were narrowed slightly, a worried look glazing the surface. Emory felt her heart leap slightly in surprise. Never, in the two years she had known (and hated) him, had she ever seen him look so vulnerable, so . . . scared.

"I-" she began, finding herself lost for words. After a moment of simply staring into his eyes, she broke away, pulling on her breeches and then leaned down to retrieve her shirt.

Emory threw her shirt on and jumped to her feet, finding herself unable to make eye contact with him any longer. When she reached the door, she paused, turning to look at him from the corner of her eye.

"I just don't know," she finished and then left, leaving Tristan staring at the closed door.

* * *

"Yer not gonna start in on me." Emory stated, tugging the black stomacher tighter around her waist.

Destiny shrugged, picking at her nails with a small throwing knife. "Didn't say a word."

Emory sighed. "You don't have ta. Yer as bad as Conway; I can read it in her eyes."

Destiny looked up then, her brown eyes finding Emory's. She watched her captain for a moment, watching as Emory finished tying the laces on the stomacher and then sat down on the edge of her bed and began to pull on her black boots.

"Yer choice Cap'n," she replied. "Doesn't mean I have ta like it," she paused, a small glimmer of laughter shining in her eyes. "'Sides, it's 'bout time ya got some. Yer such a bitch otherwise."

Emory did not bother looking up. "I try ta be."

"'E's not that bad lookin', Cap'n, don't get me wrong. But 'e's a bit shady."

"So're we," Emory responded. "We're pirates."

Destiny sighed, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. Before she could respond, a knock sounded on the double doors leading into Emory's cabin.

"Come in," Emory called without hesitation.

One door opened to reveal a brown-skinned woman, her ebony hair flowing around her shoulders. Her left hand rested lightly on a sword hanging from her weapons belt. "Cap'n Wyatt."

Emory nodded at her slightly as she walked over to her mahogany desk. "C'n I help you?"

The woman stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "My name's AnaMaria. Cap'n Sparrow sends a message."

Emory looked up at her as she unrolled a large map. "And?"

The woman gave a wry smile. "Cap'n Sparrow says to turn starboard ten degrees an' head west."

"That's back the way we came." Destiny said.

"He knows that. But he also knows where we have ta go. It's a good week's journey, but it's where we need ta be."

Emory looked down at the map on her desk, her dirt covered fingers tracing a line on it. "There's nothin' there."

"It's uncharted," AnaMaria replied. "I've been there before, Cap'n. That's where it all began."

Emory's gaze shot up to her. "Where they fought Skinner?"

"Who?" Destiny asked.

"Aye," the woman replied, nodding.

"Who?" Destiny prodded again.

"The man who killed her mother," AnaMaria replied.

Destiny's black eyebrows rose, "Huh."

Emory was silent for a moment, her discolored eyes tracing the woman's young features. The woman appeared young, and yet the air around her seemed to be so much older. Just like it did with Jack . . .

"How long've you sailed wit' Cap'n Sparrow?"

AnaMaria was not fazed in the least. "Near on twenty-six years."

"Then you knew Lor Adams?"

"Yer mum? Aye, I knew 'er. I was there when she gave birth ta you an' yer sister. Wasn't a good day, especially fer Jack," she paused. "She was a good woman. Went through a lot; lot o' pain an' heartache."

Emory nodded, lowering her eyes slightly. "I see."

"Yer mum was a good woman, Cap'n, an' a great pirate." AnaMaria smiled softly. "Wish ya coulda known 'er. Ye remind me a lot o' 'er actually; same fire in yer eyes."

Emory cleared her throat, finally looking AnaMaria in her eyes. "Right then. Tell Cap'n Sparrow I'll change course accordingly."

AnaMaria nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. Good day ta ya."

Emory inclined her head in reply, watching as AnaMaria quickly left the cabin, shutting the thick door behind her.

"An uncharted island, Cap'n? Sounds tricky ta me."

Emory nodded absently. "We'll see where it goes. Give the course change ta Conway," she replied, dismissing Destiny with her words.

Destiny stood up straight, pushing herself away from the wall she had been leaning on. "Aye, Cap'n."

Emory watched her leave, her fingers once again going to the simple gold ring around her neck.

* * *

Tristan stood silently in the Crow's Nest, his eyes following the slight movement from the _Black Pearl_ in front of him, watching as she turned slightly and began to sail in a different direction. Minutes later he could feel the ship below him begin to shift course as well, turning to follow the _Pearl_

He looked down to see Emory emerge from her cabin. She shouted something up at Conway standing at the helm. Conway yelled back at her, jerking his chin up. Emory turned around, lifting her chin to look up. She squinted her eyes against the glaring sun to gaze up at him, raising her right hand to shade her eyes.

Tristan grinned slightly and waved. Emory frowned in response, turning quickly away, making her way to the helm. He watched her for a moment longer and then turned back around, his eyes once again following the _Black __Pearl__'s_ movements.

Perhaps they had finally figured it out.

* * *

Skinner stared across the table at Rebecca as she sat primly in her high-backed chair. The lunch in front of her was slowly growing colder, the food untouched. He frowned, his eyes flicking down to the cold food.

"Ye should eat, wench."

Rebecca jumped as he unexpectedly broke the silence. "I'm not hungry," she replied.

"Don't care if ya are or not. You'll eat when I tell ya to," he answered coldly.

Rebecca stared over at him, her brown eyes red and puffy. "I said that I am not hungry."

Skinner glared over at her, one eye twitching. "If ye want ta live, ye'll do as I say."

"Then why don't you just kill me?" she cried, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

Skinner laughed at her tears. He stood up slowly and walked around the table to stand in back of her. Rebecca tensed up when his hands touched her trembling shoulders. He leaned into her slightly, his hot breath brushing her ear. "Nothing," he whispered, "would give me more pleasure than to kill you and put ya out o' my misery. But right now you are too useful to me. You are much too important."

Rebecca flinched as his hands moved up, his fingers trailing over her neck and stopping at her cheeks. Skinner's grip tightened on her face, tipping her face back so that he could look into her tired, but frightened, eyes.

"Until I see fit ta get rid o' ya, you belong to me."

Rebecca's eyes widened slightly at his words. "You do not frighten me," she whispered, attempting to regain some of her composure.

"Like hell I don't," he answered, his dark eyes staring down into hers. "Yer a terrible liar. I can see it in yer eyes. You fear me. You always have.

"You tremble when you see me; yer heart pounds whenever you hear my voice," he said and then placed one of his hands on her chest, right above her breasts. "Just as it is now. And you tell me I don't frighten you?"

Skinner released her quickly, pushing her forward. "Do not try to lie to me, bitch, I can see right through you."

"Then why do you not let me go?" she whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "If you can see through me then why do you not believe me that I know nothing?"

Skinner smirked again, settling down once again in his seat. "I've told ya before, wench, that I need ya fer only one thing," he paused, watching as she lifted her face from her hands, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "And that is bait."

* * *

The week had gone by quickly, the wind graciously pushing them onward. As the sun set on the ninth (AN: yes I mean ninth!) day, the island came into view. A flame flickered on and off from the _Pearl_'s deck, signaling to Emory.

She jerked her head up and then turned from her spot in the Nest. "Bring 'er up alongside the _Pearl_ Mr. Conway!"

"Aye Cap'n!" Conway shouted back and then began to yell orders at her crew.

Emory deftly climbed down from the Nest, jumping the last few feet to the deck. In the distance, she could hear the splash of an anchor hitting water. She knew immediately that Sparrow had dropped anchor, stopping himself in the water. She watched as black sails were lowered, the setting sun glowing around them.

"Lower anchor!" she yelled, running up the steps to the helm. "Drop the sails! Conway, make it gentle."

"As always." Conway smiled, watching as the anchor was dropped. Emory's crew ran around the deck, following orders with practiced ease.

"Is that it Cap'n? Is that the island?" he asked.

"Don't know," she replied. "I guess we'll find out."

The ship shuddered under their feet as the anchor caught, pulling them to a slow stop alongside the _Pearl_, the bow of the _Whisper_ stopping by the aft of the _Pearl_.

Emory jumped down the stairs, making her way quickly to the bow of her ship to meet up with Jack.

Jack smiled over at her, his face in growing shadow. The sunlight flickered across the gold on his teeth. "Take a small crew, Cap'n Wyatt; we can't get any closer 'n' this."

Emory frowned, unsure, once again, as to what Jack had up his sleeve.

* * *

**AN: **Okay, I'm going to say this now before I forget. There are three people in this story who aren't who they say they are. Three people who are all hiding something. If you can guess who they are, and what they are hiding, I'll give you a cookie. A yummy Jack shaped cookie.

Anyway, on to the answers to the reviews:

**Dawnie-7: **Wise woman. Wise, wise woman.

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Thank you! You'll find out more about Tristan soon. I don't think that you'll be in the dark for too much longer.

**Obsetress: **I'm glad that you liked the chapter; it was a bear to write! It took me forever to write it! This one wasn't too bad, although I'm not sure that I like it.


	15. The Switch

_"Hell is that place where the simplest action causes pain."_

_Unknown_

Demon Called Deception

_Resubmitted __4-3-05__. I submitted this again because I wasn't sure if it was sent out completely last time due to the site crash or whatever. If you already got this, then forgive me. If not, then enjoy!_

**Chapter Fourteen: The Switch**

"They are coming," he whispered, his head cocked slightly to one side.

Skinner's head snapped up, his dark, almost soulless, eyes burning into his. "They're here?"

The man shook his head. "No. Not yet. But they are near. It is almost time. Get your men ready Captain Skinner."

Skinner's face twisted into a cruel smile. His eyes flicked down to the young girl tied to a stalagmite not far from where he was standing. His smile broadened, the evilness of his expression spreading to his eyes. "Let the games begin."

* * *

Jack remembered the last time he had been to this island. He remembered it all too well. He could feel the anger burning, building up inside of him. Jack's hands clenched at his sides, his teeth clenched together.

"Cap'n are ya alright?" Gibbs asked to his left.

Jack drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Aye, I'll be fine."

"Per'aps you should've stayed on yer ship," came Emory's wry comment from behind.

Jack sighed. "Considering I'm one of a few people who actually know where this cave is, I don't think I could've."

Conway shivered slightly as he passed under a shadow that seemed all too familiar to him. He did not like it here. He knew it was not going to be like last time. No, this time was definitely going to end badly.

* * *

Tristan walked slowly behind the group, one hand resting on his sword hilt, the other running quickly through his damp hair. They were almost there. He knew it; he could _feel_ it. Everything was about to begin again. Or perhaps, maybe, it would finally end.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. Tristan turned his head to his left slightly, gazing out into the dark trees. He looked back at Emory, watched the way her body swayed as she moved, as she continued to walk ahead of him. He paused in his stride, a flicker of something echoing in his eyes.

With a sigh he turned from the path and made his way silently through the underbrush.

* * *

Jack paused. He knew he had to do this. He knew that if he didn't Rebecca would be killed. He knew that. And yet . . .

"Are we waitin' here fer somethin' special?" Emory asked gruffly.

Jack turned around sharply, his eyes searching for hers in the hazy darkness. He found them, finally, her gold eye flashing. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the eerie silence. "Not really. Jus' waitin' fer the perfect moment," he answered, trying to mask his uneasiness with humor.

"Which would be now," a deep voice said in front of them.

Jack turned quickly, unsheathing his sword in the same swift move.

"Cap'n," Gibbs said quietly.

Jack tilted his head slightly. All of the people behind him had drawn their swords, waiting for the first attack. The only problem was that the people surrounding them, more than twice their number, had drawn pistols. Emory glared defiantly at the men hiding in the darkness, her expression turning as black as the shadows around them.

"I suggest ya put down yer weapons mates. Ya ain't gonna be able ta get us 'fore we get you."

Jack stared at the man, taking in his cocky grin and sneering eyes. Jack did not know him; he was certain of that. His grip tightened on his sword, causing the man's grin to widen.

"Go 'head mate. See if ya c'n nail me 'fore they nail you," he said again.

Jack's eyes narrowed when he heard the sound of pistols cocking.

"Do it Sparrow," he heard Emory whisper. "We'll cover you."

The pirate jerked his head up slightly, almost unnoticeably. The sound of a gunshot lit the air, followed by the angry cursing of Emory.

Jack did not dare turn around. "Ya alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she bit out. "Bastard only shot at my feet."

"Ya see Cap'n Sparra? We will shoot you. Though that'll make the Cap'n very upset wit' us. Ya see, 'e kinda wants ya alive, an' I don't want ta dis'point 'im."

"No, wouldn't want that," Jack replied sarcastically.

"Cap'n?" AnaMaria asked.

Jack did not reply, his eyes never leaving the pirate in front of him.

"Sparrow," Emory said warningly.

With a sigh Jack allowed the sword to slip through his fingers. The cold metal blade hit the dirt ground with a dull _thunk_. The sound of six other swords hitting the ground came moments later. Instantly, Jack knew who had not dropped their weapon.

"Em," he said calmly.

Emory was silent, her cold eyes taking in the dozen or so pirates surrounding them.

"Em," he repeated.

"Dammit," she swore. Seconds later she dropped her sword.

The man's grin widened again. "Name's Compton. I'll be leadin' you fine gentlemen, an' ladies, ta pay a little visit ta me captain."

The men surrounding them pressed forward, their pistols still trained on the group. Compton turned around and began to quickly walk through the cave's entrance, gesturing for his men to follow.

* * *

A shiver ran down Will's spine as he was herded into the vast cavern. He remembered the last time he had been here; some twenty-six years ago. It had been a hard time for him. A time when he'd had to hold his breath with patience for the return of his children

Now, here he was again, once again awaiting the return of another child. Will loved Rebecca like a daughter, he had raised her as one, and yes, at times he had even thought of her as one of his own.

On the surface he knew, and it pained him to think of it, that Rebecca would leave one day; that she would return to her true family. But he never thought it would have been this way. She hadn't deserved this.

"Father?" Alex whispered beside him.

Will glanced over at him, taking in the calm expression that covered his face, but stopped at the fear that littered his eyes. For a moment Will forgot the predicament that they were in. He forgot about the pirates surrounding them, pistols cocked and trained on them. Instead his heart flew to his son.

Will had not thought how coming here and facing this man would affect Alex. He had not thought that Alex would still be frightened after so long. But now, as he looked into his son's eyes, Will knew that there were things that Alex would never get over. His kidnapping was obviously one of them.

Will smiled wanly, placing his hand on Alex's shoulder. "It's alright. It will be fine."

Alex did not reply, merely nodded and looked away.

Will withdrew his hand slowly, his heart aching for his son.

* * *

Three year old William Mathews ran along the sandy beach, screaming in delight as the waves licked at his bare feet. He bent over slightly, sticking his hands into the salty water. His small, pudgy fingers opened and closed quickly beneath the waves as if he wished to grab hold of the water in his tiny fists.

He squealed as a particularly strong wave crashed into his short legs, sending him toppling over. He landed in the soggy sand butt first, a smile plastered over his cherub-like face. He slammed his hands into the waves, small water drops splashing up around him. William fisted two small wads of sand and smashed them together, small blobs of mud dripping onto his already soaked breeches.

A shadow fell over him suddenly, although he did not notice as he happily played with his creation. William only looked up when a rough hand landed gently in his blonde hair. His wide, innocent hazel eyes stared gleefully up into the eyes of the man kneeling beside him.

"Ball," he stated simply, holding up his muddy hands.

Thomas Norrington smiled down at him, enjoying the childish innocence that the young boy possessed. "Where is your mother?" he asked quietly.

"Ball," William said again, patting the soggy object gently.

Thomas sighed, turning his head to glance around the small beach. He found what he was looking for moments later. With another sigh, he picked William up, paying no attention to the water dripping off of the boy.

"Come lad," he whispered. "Let's go to your mother."

William happily dropped the ball of mud he had been playing with. "Mommy!" he squealed.

"Yes, your mother."

Thomas' eyes fell on the young woman sitting outside of the small house the Turner's called home. Her eyes were staring sightlessly in front of her, her full lips set in a tiny frown. He could see worry mixed in with her vacant expression. Worry for her family, he knew. Emily Mathews was, to him, the epitome of despair.

"Mrs. Mathews?" he called gently, stopping just in front of her. "Mrs. Mathews, are you alright?"

Emily jumped slightly, recognition entering her once empty eyes. "Oh, Mr. Norrington. I'm sorry; I did not realize that you were there."

Thomas smiled slightly. "I believe this belongs to you," he replied, placing William down on the ground.

William laughed and ran to his mother's side. Emily enveloped him in a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Oh William," she whispered.

"Are you going to be alright Mrs. Mathews? Do you . . . do you wish to talk?"

Emily looked up at him, unsure what to make of his kind offer. She knew that Thomas loved Rebecca, knew that one day he wished to marry her, but she was not sure if she was willing to confide in him.

But, staring up into his kind eyes, Emily found herself willing to trust him.

"I'm worried," she whispered, absently smoothing her son's wet hair. "They should be back by now. Do you . . . you don't suppose . . . you don't think that something has happened to them?"

Thomas turned around slowly and sat next to her, running his hands over his wet uniform. "I do not know. I do know, though, that your father would never allow anything to happen to your husband, and neither, it seems, would Sparrow."

"We both have so much to lose," Emily replied, cradling William in her arms. "If something goes wrong, if my uncle fails, then I will lose my husband, brothers, father, and a woman who was raised as my sister." She paused, glancing down at her son as he began to calm down. "But you would lose the woman that you love.

"I have been through this before, Mr. Norrington, when I was hardly older than my son. I cannot stand this waiting patiently for something to happen. I cannot take not knowing if something has gone wrong. I am not as strong as you or my mother. I just cannot take this anymore."

Thomas was silent for a moment after she finished, allowing her words to sink in. "You believe that I have been strong throughout this ordeal, but you are wrong. There has not been a day or night that passes that I do not wish Rebecca was here with me now. There is not a moment that goes by that I do not think that I could have done more to save her.

"I pray every night, Mrs. Mathews, for her safe return. I pray for the strength to continue; to not commandeer a ship and go after them. I am in the same situation as you. Please understand that."

Thomas paused, gazing into Emily's tear filled eyes. "I am sure your mother feels the same way. This cannot be easy on her, either."

Tears began to trail down Emily's cheeks, pooling at the point of her chin. "I just do not wish to raise my son without a father. I do not wish to be alone."

Without warning, Thomas pulled her to him, wrapping both arms around her in a hug. He had no idea why he had done so. He knew it was improper to embrace a woman who was already married, but when he had gazed into her tear streaked face, he had not been able to control himself.

"You are not alone," he whispered, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. "You never will be, I promise."

* * *

Tristan lowered the body of the pirate to the cave floor, watching as Emory and her group was herded into the cavern, none of them looking very happy with the situation. Even from his position above them, Tristan could see the look of fear that slowly made its way across Alex's face, spreading from his eyes. He could see the look of cold anger gracing Emory's tanned features.

Tristan's eyes followed Emory for a moment and then fell on Jack. Jack's dark eyes stared in front of him. To Tristan it seemed as if Jack was completely ignoring the pirates surrounding him. His characteristic mannerisms were gone; his normal cocky grin was not visible. He seemed to be a different man entirely. Jack was _way_ too calm and collected to be his normal self.

The barrel of a pistol being placed at the back of his neck pulled him out of his musings. Tristan cursed himself silently at not having heard anyone approach. He knew better than to let his guard down.

Tristan felt the pistol shift as the person behind him moved slightly.

"Mmm, Cap'n's not gonna like this," a gruff voice whispered.

Tristan looked down at the pirate lying dead at his feet. He shrugged slightly. Oh well. Things never did go the way they were planned.

"In fact," the man behind him began, "Cap'n's gonna wanna 'ave a word wit' ya."

The pirate's free hand fell down on Tristan's shoulder, squeezing painfully. Tristan sighed and rolled his eyes. How he so hated being manhandled.

* * *

Emory gazed around her, her discolored eyes taking in everything surrounding them. She noticed the dozen or so pirates littering the room around them; each engaging in various activities. One pirate stood leaning against the wall, picking at his dirty, ragged fingernails with his dagger. Others merely stood silently, watching in silent glee as the small group was led into the cave.

Emory's nose wrinkled in disgust as one of the muddy pirates licked his lips and blew a kiss at her. The other men howled at them, issuing cat calls at the two women pirates that were being paraded into the center of the cavern along with their male companions.

"I see that our guests 'ave arrived," a deep voice boomed.

Emory's gaze shot to the center of the cave, looking up to meet the eyes of the man standing there. Instantly, the feeling of bitter cold settled over her. Frozen fingers gripped her chest-_DeathPainAnger_-squeezing until it hurt to breathe. Emory gasped, her lungs beginning to beg for air. Her shaking hands went to her chest, her fingers digging into her own skin, attempting to find a way to gain release.

Jack heard her gasp of pain. The first thought that filtered through to his hate filled mind was that someone had hurt her. That thought was quickly pushed away as he saw the cruel smile flit across the center pirate's face. He was doing this. Somehow, he was hurting Jack's flesh and blood.

Jack turned just in time to see Emory's knees buckle under her. He shot to her side before even her crew had time react. His strong fingers grabbed hold of her arm before she could fall.

"Em," he began. "Em, love. Snap out o' it."

Emory's pain-laced eyes met his for a moment as she fell to her knees. She reached up quickly, her ice-cold fingers gripping his warm hand. Jack jerked back as the bitter cold washed over him, the fingers of Death touching his senses-_DeathLifeRebirthRevenge_­-and drowning his world in a sea of frozen agony.

Jack could vaguely make out his crew calling to him; could vaguely feel their hands gripping his shoulders.

"Break them apart," he heard a cold, familiar voice call out.

Moments later he was forcibly pulled away from Emory. The moment her hand left his, warmth began to once again spread its way through his body, the pain of Death surrendering him to Life once again. When his vision cleared, he turned his head to look at Emory.

Her chest was red from where she had clawed at her skin; thin trails of blood trickled down her flesh from where her nails had broken through. Her face was pale, her eyes dull. Her hands were still shaking uncontrollably, but for the most part she seemed fine.

"Em?" he said softly.

Emory looked up at him but did not reply. She offered him a weak smile instead, the expression not meeting her eyes.

"Now that the 'ole family bondin' is over," a voice barked out, "per'aps we c'n get down ta business."

"Only business . . . we're gettin' down ta," Jack gasped, "is killin' . . . you an' takin' back Rebecca."

Skinner stared over at him, one scarred eyebrow raised. "Rebecca? Ah, yes, that sweet young girl that I mistakenly took from you. She was of no use to me."

"Then give her back!" Will shouted.

Skinner blinked at him. A cold sneer made its way across his face as he recognized who had spoken. "I remember you now," he replied, walking toward Will. "You were here, weren't you? Waitin' in the shadows wit' the rest o' 'em; waitin' ta ambush me. Oh yes. I remember you."

Skinner stopped directly in front of Will. "I bet you thought ya won, didn't you? I bet it killed you ta find out that I was still alive an' that I took something so important from you."

"Just release her." Will stated, never breaking eye contact.

Skinner gestured over his shoulder at two pirates that stood in front of a stalagmite. Rebecca looked up mutely as the two men stepped aside. At first she remained silent, her eyes accepting the strange people standing around her, until . . .

"Father!" she cried, tears of hope springing to her eyes. "Alex! Michel! Thank God!"

One of the pirates smacked her, effectively stopping her from talking. "Shut up wench!"

Jack bristled in unspent anger. "Ya won't touch 'er again Skinner."

Skinner turned to him, "Oh, and are you goin' ta stop me?"

Before Jack could reply, a tanned hand touched his shoulder. "No, 'e's not," Emory answered, the color slowly returning to her face. "I am."

"What?" Conway said, finally breaking his own silence. "Cap'n ya don't . . ."

"Quiet, Mr. Conway," Emory snapped, silencing him with a cold stare. "I've warned ya about questionin' me decisions."

"What're ya doin' Wyatt?" Jack asked.

"What I have to," she replied.

Skinner looked her up and down, taking in the way her stance was aggressive and yet passive at the same time. Her face was a mask of resolve; a mask of understanding.

"Ye've intrigued me lass," Skinner said.

"I'm offerin' ya a trade," Emory started. "If you let Rebecca go, then-"

"Don't you dare," Jack hissed.

"-you c'n 'ave me."

Skinner stared at Emory for a moment, his black eyes narrowed. What was she playing at? "How do I know I c'n trust ya?"

Emory snorted, fighting back the shiver that passed down her spin as his gaze met hers. "Ya don't. But I'm offerin' my life fer 'ers."

Skinner did not reply at first, his black gaze locking on hers.

"You said she was of no use to you," Emory stated again, her voice growing stronger with each word. "Why not take me instead? I'm sure you've figured it out by now that I 'ave what ya want."

"Cap'n," Destiny whispered but stopped when Emory lifted her right hand in a warning gesture.

Believing this to be too good to be true, Skinner asked, "An' what do ye want in return?"

"You let Rebecca go," Emory stated. "Give 'er back ta the people that care 'bout 'er."

Skinner smirked. "There's more." It was a statement, not a question.

"You let mine an' Sparrow's crew leave as well, wit'out incident."

Skinner laughed at that. "An' why should I?"

"Because you want the treasure, an' I'm the only way ya c'n get it."

The smirk fell away from Skinner's face. He knew she was right. He could see that she was right. Her face, her eyes, everything screamed at him. He could see that she was Lor's daughter. He could see that she was Rebecca's sister; her twin as it were.

"An' if I accept yer bargain?"

Emory sighed. "I'll give ya whatever ya want. Do we 'ave an accord?"

Skinner scowled at her, his left eye twitching. Before he could reply, one of his crew came up behind him and whispered in his ear. Skinner's gaze flicked to Emory for a moment and then back to his crewman. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face as the pirate spoke. Emory felt a chill run down her spine as she watched them. Whatever the man was saying, she had a feeling she was not going to like it.

When the pirate finished, Skinner turned back to her, the smirk still present. "Aye, lass. We 'ave an accord."

Emory swallowed, attempting to wet her dry mouth. She nodded slightly and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. As she began walking towards Skinner, a strong hand grabbed onto her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Don't do this," Jack whispered.

Emory turned her head slightly to stare at him from the corner of her eyes. "Let me go Sparrow."

"You do this, an' he wins."

"Let me go," she repeated, her eyes growing angry.

"I'm not goin' ta stand by an' lose another one o' me daughters," Jack hissed.

"Yer gettin' one back," Emory answered snidely.

"Doesn't work that way, love."

"I don't 'ave time fer this."

"Yer not gonna-"

Jack's words were cut off as Emory turned quickly and slammed her right fist into his stomach. Skinner watched as she knelt down with Jack as he fell to his knees, her back to him. He could almost swear that he heard her speak; could almost swear that he heard her whisper something to Jack before she stood up.

Emory turned her back on Jack and began to slowly walk towards Skinner, her red-black hair waving behind her.

"No," he gasped out.

"_Let her go Jack,_" a soft, feminine voice whispered.

Jack's eyes shot open as his head jerked up. He knew that voice; he could _never_ forget that voice. Standing beside Emory as she went to complete her part of the bargain, was a tall glowing form. A form with short, wild red hair. But as he blinked, the form disappeared, causing Jack to wonder if she had just been a figment of his imagination.

Emory stopped in front of Skinner, gazing directly into his eyes. "Now let Rebecca go."

Skinner flicked his wrist behind him. "Untie her then," he replied. "No one will stop you."

Emory's gaze flicked to the pirates standing around her and then to the frightened woman still tied to the rock. She nodded slightly and then began to walk over to Rebecca. Emory leaned over slightly as she walked, pulling a small knife from her left boot, gripping it tightly in her left hand.

Rebecca's eyes widened slightly as Emory stopped in front of her. Through teary eyes, Rebecca had barely been able to tell what Emory had looked like from across the cavern. But now, seeing her right up close, she almost felt as if she were looking in a mirror.

True, Emory's eyes and hair were different, and her face was harder, but in every other aspect, they were identical. Face shape, height, everything about her was similar.

Without a word, Emory walked behind her. Rebecca felt the cold steel of the blade as it sliced through the heavy ropes tied around her wrists. Emory looked up slightly, watching as AnaMaria and Gibbs helped Jack to his feet. She sighed as she stepped up beside Rebecca.

"Run," she stated.

Rebecca wasted no time in doing as she was told. She ran towards the small, captive group, stumbling slightly but then straightening. "Father!" she cried, running into Will's open arms.

Emory watched them for a moment as she stepped up beside Skinner. Her gaze flicked to Jack, gathering the many emotions that flashed across his face. Feeling her staring at him, Jack looked up at her. He nodded silently and then whispered to AnaMaria.

"Let's go," AnaMaria stated, turning slowly to make her way back to the entrance of the cavern, the others following closely behind.

Conway was the only one to stay where he was. Emory shook her head at him. "Go," she mouthed.

Before he could argue, Destiny grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him away.

"If any o' yer men try ta stop them," Emory began, not turning to look at Skinner. "I'll kill meself."

"I'm sure ye would." Skinner replied. "I, however, am always true ta me word. They will escape unharmed."

He turned to her slowly, one hand going under her chin and gripping her slender throat. "You, on the other hand, are now mine to play with."

"Don't get excited, old man. Ya 'aven't won yet."

"Oh, but in many ways, my dear, I 'ave."

* * *

By the time Skinner and his crew had dragged Emory to their ship, the _Black Pearl_ and the _Silent Whisper_ had already disappeared, heading to places she knew not where. Emory had been dragged into the brig of the _Devil's Shadow_ and then left there, locked in the tiny cell. Alone. No guards to harass. No rats or bugs to have conversations with. Nothing.

Emory was almost asleep when she heard footsteps stop in front of her cell. Skinner stood there, his black eyes glittering in the darkness. He stared down at her, a sneer forming over his lips as he watched her lying on the hard wood floor.

"Is it still on yer back?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Ye know what I'm talkin' about," he answered, unlocking her cell and stepping inside. "The map."

Emory's eyes widened as she sat up. "There's a map on my back?" she asked innocently.

Skinner's sneer turned to a frown as he stopped in front of her. "Don't play games wit' me bitch."

"I'm not playin' anythin'." Emory shot back. "I jus' never said I would make this easy fer ya."

Skinner lashed out at her, his right fist connecting solidly with her jaw. A thin trail of blood began to drip down her chin as he glared down at her. A thought occurred to him, however, and once again the glare was replaced by a smirk.

"Tell me, my dear," he began. "How did you like my son?"

Emory glared up at him, wiping away the blood with the back of her hand. "Can't say as I've ever met 'im."

Skinner did not reply. Instead, he lifted his left arm and gestured behind him. A man that Emory had not noticed before began to step out of the shadows silently, his hands behind his back.

Emory's eyes widened as the shadows fell away from his face. "No," she whispered. "No! I trusted you!"

* * *

**AN: **Bwahahahaha! How'd you like that? I had to end it like that. I just had to. Anyway, sorry that it took so long to update. I was unable to write forever until I watched Pirates and then listened to the soundtrack. And then, bam! Writer's block was gone! I hope that you all liked it!

**Mystic Fish: **Hmmm . . . I have to say you got one right. I love leaving cliffhangers like this. The other two I guess you'll just have to wait to find out! So, which two-thirds do you want?

**Obsetress: **I do agree. I wasn't too impressed with that chapter either. I liked some of it, but not all of it. You do seem to be right. Of course, I guess he is kind of easy to guess. But, sure, which one-sixth do you want?

**Tefsparrow: **Thanks! Well, you got two right.

**Dawnie-7: **Thanks! I'm glad that you liked that scene. I found it fun to write. And, well, it's not exactly like that . . . you'll just have to wait and see. Actually, you found out in this chapter!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Oh, you know that I love to do that. I have so much fun. And, well, you got one right. Hope you enjoyed!

**Arein: **Well, you got one right, although what he's really hiding will be revealed soon.

**kerricarri: **wow. Let me first say that you really had to dig far to find Sui Generis. I finished that fic about two years ago. I thank you for the praises for both Sui Generis and Silver and Gold, it was greatly unexpected for fics that were finished over a year and two years ago. I love to have people express their opinions. And now, I want to thank you again for your thoughts on DCD. I have been told that my writing has gotten better, and I myself see that as well. I'm glad that you liked the Prophecy. Boy that was a hard one to write; it took me forever and a day. Now, before this review to the review gets any longer, I'll end with: I'm forever grateful that you like the trilogy so far, and I hope that you continue to! Especially after this new twist that I'm going to put in! P.S. I have to say that that is one of the longest reviews I have ever received!


	16. Lie to Me

_"__Lie to me convince me that I've been sick forever/ And all of this will make sense when I get better/ But I know the difference between myself and my reflection/ I just can't help but to wonder which of us do you love."_

_Evanescence; Breathe No More_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Fifteen: Lie To Me**

"No! All of you are lying!" Rebecca cried, covering her tearstained face with her dirt covered hands.

Will stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Rebecca's trembling shoulders. She leaned into him, her arms going around his waist as tears streamed freely from her brown eyes.

"Please father," she whispered, "tell me it is a lie."

Will sighed, his eyes flicking up to meet Jack's. Jack was watching them silently with his stormy brown eyes. He sat calmly in his captain's chair, his fingers steepled at his lips. His eyes were hooded; no expression evident in his features.

Will sighed again and then gently pushed Rebecca far enough away from him so that he could look in her eyes. His heart broke at the pain and confusion he saw there.

"I cannot tell you that," he began. "If I did, that would be lying to you and I cannot do that; I have never done that to you."

Rebecca pushed him away from her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "How can you say that?" she cried. "You've lied to me for twenty years!"

"It was never something I wanted-" Will began and then paused, rubbing his eyes. "We did it to protect you Rebecca. It was never intended to hurt you."

"We had to," Michel said.

"You are still our sister," Alex seconded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I'm not," Rebecca sobbed.

"You were raised as their sister," Thomas answered. "That is all that matters."

"You could have told me." Rebecca whispered.

"We were going to on your birthday," Will replied. "We were going to tell you everything."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she cried, the seemingly never-ending tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Because I asked 'em not to," Jack answered, finally breaking his odd silence. "I needed ya ta grow up wit' a normal life. If you knew about everythin' that yer mum went through an' everythin' that yer blood carries wit' it, then you'd never 'ave a regular life."

"Who gave you the right to decide how I was supposed to live my life?" Rebecca asked angrily.

Jack's dark eyes grew cold. "Yer mum as she died in me arms." He stood up, placing his hands palm down on his desk, disregarding all of the books and papers laying there. "It could also be the fact that I'm yer father whether ye like it or not."

"Jack," Will began.

Jack ignored him. "I don't know why it's botherin' you now, lass," he said, his tone gentler. "Skinner told ya who ye were."

Rebecca gazed up at him, wiping the tearstains from her cheeks. "I thought he was lying," her brown eyes flashed, "as all pirates do."

Jack's lips twitched. "Touché, love. But in all actuality, Skinner wasn't lyin'. I am yer father an' Lor Adams was yer mum."

Rebecca hugged her arms to her stomach, her hands collecting fistfuls of her dirty and ragged dress. "I just do not understand why this is happening. I just wish that someone would explain."

Alex's arm went around her shoulders, holding her to him in an attempt to offer her some support. Will looked up into Jack's softening eyes. "We need to tell her." He whispered.

Jack sighed. He slumped back into his high-backed chair, his shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the seemingly ever present tension diminished. "That, my dear, is a long- and not so easy to tell-story."

And with that, Jack launched into the tale.

* * *

"Emily? Emily, how are you feeling today?"

Emily looked up from where she was playing with her son. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

Elizabeth sat down slowly, her skirts settling around her legs. "I have been worried about you. You have not seemed yourself lately."

Emily was silent for a moment. She looked down at her son as he sat playing, oblivious to both women sitting there. "I wasn't myself for awhile," she finally replied. "I allowed my concern to eat away at me. I allowed it to overwhelm me. But I spoke to Lieutenant Norrington a week or so ago and he showed me that I am not the only one feeling this way. He showed me that I needed to stay strong not only for my son, but for myself as well."

Elizabeth smiled, reaching out and taking her daughter's hand in her own. "He is a wise man. Much like his father. He will bring much to our family."

"He must be in love," Emily answered, "and brave to marry into a pirate's family."

"Did not Thomas do the same thing?" Elizabeth questioned. "He married you, and your father is a pirate, even though he may not look it."

"Yes, but Thomas did not know about it until recently. He did not knowingly marry a pirate's daughter."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "Is that any better? Was it not harder to keep that secret from him, than it would have been just to tell him out right? You carried the weight of our secret on your shoulders for four years. Was it not hard for you?"

Emily did not reply. Her mother's words rang true. She knew she would not be able to deny it. Keeping a secret such as the one they had kept hidden for so long had been trying.

"They will be alright, won't they?" Emily asked in reply.

"Of course they will, my dear. They will be fine." Elizabeth answered, a small smile crossing her face while at the same time some form of fear jabbed painfully at her heart.

* * *

"You have done well Captain Skinner," he said, the smile gracing his lips not quite reaching his eyes. "You have placed the map- and the bearer I might add- back in its rightful hands. Congratulations are in order I do believe."

Skinner merely scowled. "No need ta celebrate yet, mate. Least not 'til the treasure is in our 'ands. She's as headstrong as 'er mum. She could make it difficult."

His grin widened. "I actually plan on it. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to torture one of the bloodline that destroyed me. She has much to learn; so much history that she has only brushed the tip of it. There is so much I must teach her."

Skinner stared at him. He was unsure exactly what this man was speaking of. He knew the man was talking about the legend surrounding the map and the treasure. He was not that daft. But the rest, this history that he constantly spoke of, meant nothing to him.

Skinner was not an ignorant man. He knew there were plenty of things this stranger kept hidden from him. Secrets such as his name. Several times over the last few months Skinner had tried to make him slip up, but never to any avail. The man had always replied that all would be revealed in good time. At times, Skinner had a sudden urge to beat the man until he answered his questions. But the strong urge would pass as soon as their eyes met.

Now, Skinner did not fancy himself a weak man by any means. In fact, most men would quiver in fear should they ever cross his path. But this man, this man was different. Even though neither his face nor his voice bore any trace of an emotion or expression, there was something about his eyes that screamed danger. Something in his eyes that proved him to be even more cunning, even more evil than even Skinner himself.

And that frightened him.

"Your son must also learn much."

"My son?" Skinner answered, jolting out of his thoughts. "What does my son have to do with it?"

"Everything."

* * *

They sat in stony silence. He stared unabashedly over at her, his dark eyes taking in her down turned face. She would not look at him, would not dare look at his familiar face for she knew what would happen if she did.

She knew that her heart would forgive him.

He knew that it was not easy for her, knew he had blown his last chance. But still, _still_, something inside of him whispered, telling him he needed to at least explain to her his reasons. With a shuddering breath he broke their frozen silence.

"Em-"

"_Captain_," she snapped, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Em," he continued, refusing to use the title she had given him. "I need to explain."

At this she looked up, her odd eyes blazing. The moment their eyes met she could feel her heart thump, but she gathered all of her will, her anger, and centered it on the man kneeling in front of her. "Explain what, Connors? How you've betrayed me? Again? How you've betrayed my crew and-"

"Your crew is fine," Tristan interrupted.

"Only because of a deal I made! Only because of a bargain your _father_ was forced to keep! You led us straight into a trap-"

"You led yourself into it," he exploded, all manner of civility gone. "I had no say in it. You and your dreams have led to this. If not for them you would still be out searching for you long-lost sister."

"A sister," Emory snapped, "that your _father_ kidnapped. He started this. And you helped." Her eyes widened for a moment as she paused, a thought flitting through her mind. "He sent you, didn't he? He sent you two years ago to kill me."

Tristan shook his head. "No. He sent me to watch you, to make sure nothing happened."

Emory stayed silent, her eyes staring unseeingly at the brig floor. "That makes no sense," she whispered. "If he sent you to watch me, then why did he take Rebecca?"

Tristan gave a brief smile at her question. "Because I gave him the wrong information. I told him that the girl he told me to watch- you- was the wrong girl and that I had killed you." He paused. "Which at the time I thought I had. I informed him of another girl; another girl who could possibly be the heir to Lor Adams."

"You gave him Rebecca," Emory finished.

Tristan moved closer to Emory, knowing that she could not harm him since she was in shackles. "It was either that or I give him you." He stated. "And I couldn't do that."

"Why? Because you had feelings for me? Because I was a good lay?" she bit out.

Tristan was silent again, his expression going blank. His gaze wandered down, following a small drop of water that had made its way through a tiny hole in the ship's side.

Emory slid her foot quickly forward, pushing a mound of dirt at his knees. "Tell me why you could destroy the life of an innocent girl, but not mine," she demanded.

Tristan looked up at her finally, still silent. Minutes later he spoke. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Emory's eyes hardened. "Lie to me," she replied. "Tell me that you did everything because you cared for me; that you never wanted to hurt me," she paused. "Tell me that you loved me."

Tristan's gaze softened for a moment, but quickly hardened back into steely resolve. He stayed silent, refusing to speak; refusing to admit anything. Tristan reached out slowly, allowing the tips of his fingers to briefly brush away a strand of her unkempt hair.

Emory jerked away, the loose strands of her hair flying around her face. "Lie to me dammit. Tell me you couldn't do it because you cared for me."

"I can't do that," he whispered. "Because that wouldn't be a lie."

Emory's eyes narrowed. Words left her for a moment. She wasn't sure how to respond. She had spent two years hating the man that knelt in front of her; two years hating everything that was him. And yet with one sentence, one whispered word, he could make her forget everything he had ever done. Well, almost.

The anger boiled deep inside of her, burning in the pit of her stomach and stabbing at her heart. How could he expect her to believe him after all of this? After everything he had done to her, how could he ever expect her to trust what he says again?

"Don't give me any of yer bullshit, Connors. Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

Tristan sighed. She could never make anything easy. He reached out quickly, gently grabbing hold of both sides of her face. Emory attempted to twist her face away, doing her best not to look at him. She reached up, her own hands grabbing hold of his arms, the chains on her arms clanking loudly.

"Listen to me, Emory," he whispered, drawing her face closer to his. "I am not lying to you. Nor have I lied to you since this journey began. I just never told you the complete truth."

"That's the same thing."

Tristan shook his head, his dark hair waving. "No, it isn't. There were just some things I couldn't tell you; some things that even I don't know. But you can trust me when I say . . ."

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture?"

Tristan backed away at the voice, his hands releasing her face. Emory's eyes left his, traveling instead to the pirate standing outside of her cell. Tristan stood up slowly, turning his back on her, his grey eyes growing bored.

"What do you want Compton?"

Compton merely grinned. "Interrogatin' the prisoner, are we? Gettin' anythin' useful?"

"That's none of your business," Tristan snapped. "What do you want?"

"Cap'n wants ta see ya in 'is quarters. Told me ta come find ya."

"Fine, then lets go and leave our guest to her own devices." Tristan replied, opening the cell door and stepping through. With one last look at Emory, he turned away and left the brig.

* * *

The moonless night seemed ghostly, the fog hovering over the resting sea caressing the anchored ship. The ship seemed almost peaceful; the majority of the crew sleeping in their bunks. The few men still awake watched over the seas, their eyes searching for any sign of danger.

For some of the more superstitious of the lot, the fog bode ill. It could bring nothing but bad luck to the watchful pirates. Nothing good could come of it. Or so they believed.

And yet for one man, a man who was not a pirate but more of a ghost of a man who had once been, the fog bore good tidings. For tonight his story would be told. Tonight they would find their missing pieces. Tonight his past would become their present.

He made his way silently through the ship. The crew paid little or no attention to him, watching the ill-bearing fog more than they did anything else. He walked silently down the steps, not one board creaking beneath his weight. He stopped only when he reached the unguarded cell, the sleeping form of a woman lying prone on the dirty floor, her wild, dark hair splayed about her head.

The man opened the door slowly, leaving the stolen keys hanging in the lock. She did not move, did not twitch, as he walked closer and knelt down next to her. He reached out tentatively, his thin fingers brushing against her hair. He moved his hand down, lightly tracing the contours of her face.

"Such innocence hiding in this tough face," he whispered. He smiled. "But you were like that before. Hiding your true intentions."

His fingers stalled over her eyes, hovering just over her eyelids. "Sleep well, my dear. Dream deeply, my sleeping beauty, for when you wake, your life will be altered; your lost memories will be remembered." He paused, his fingers trailing to her lips. "And you will be mine."

She shifted uncomfortably at his words, her eyes clenching in her sleep as if unwanted dreams filtered through her mind.

His smile widened. "Yes, my dear. Dream well. Remember everything you have forgotten."

* * *

**AN: **Wow. It has been a long time since I updated. I am so sorry. But, for awhile I lost my muse. And then when I found it again, I could only write a little bit. And then it left. Again. But, now I've found it. Again. This time, I think it'll stay. I find that I can write a whole lot more when I'm in school, and since the dreadful thing has started up again, I'm having no problem writing anything. Weird, huh? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

I'm honestly really tired right now, so I'm not gonna have time to write to my reviewers. I will say, though, that I appreciate all of you, new and old, that have reviewed and I hope you continue to do so!


	17. Ancient Town

"Those who dream by night, in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible."

T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia)

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Sixteen: Ancient** **Town**

The city had been beautiful once; the columns and pedestals flickering like crystals under the unforgiving sun. The people had been prosperous and kind. No wars had struck their land; no famine, no disease. They had been blessed, one could say, by the Gods.

Their King had been kind, ruling with a soft hand. He was elderly, such was common knowledge. He had ruled for as long as anyone could remember, his wizened face growing more and more wrinkled as the years went by.

But that was all in the Past. The King no longer ruled with a soft hand. In fact he did not rule at all. He had died- been murdered, most would say- two years before. In his place stood a younger man, his cruel eyes causing the peace of the island to whither. Time around them had begun to shatter; the Past, Present and Future beginning to have no meaning.

It became known that the gift the God Chronos had given them was being abused. The people knew that Chronos would soon become angered; that he would take his anger out on his faithful followers. The greed of one man would become the death of hundreds.

Storms had formed soon after, thick clouds oozing through the sky, their ominous presence blotting out the sun. Lightning flashed through the sky; bolts striking every pedestal, every building. The people were afraid. For their simple minds the storms meant that the Gods had set out to destroy them.

Only one woman had thoughts of protecting her people; one woman who thought of more than just praying to the Gods who have seemed to turn against them. She knew something was not right, and it had nothing to do with the Gods.

It had to do solely with the man who called himself King.

And the one way to end the punishment that the Gods sent down was to destroy the man who abused his rights.

* * *

"You have the power of Chronos in your hands and yet you waste it on these Gods fearing people." The soft voice said, the low tones caressing his senses.

He turned slowly, already knowing who would be standing there. She was a woman of beauty un-rivaled; a woman whose beauty could easily be compared to the Gods'. She was someone that every man desired, but only one man could acquire. But she was a woman who he would own soon enough.

"One thing at a time my dear. All in good time," he smirked and held his hand out. "For now I have something much more important to attend to."

She looked down at his outstretched hand, her gold eyes narrowing imperceptibly. Moments later her face relaxed and she took his proffered hand.

He pulled her to him, pressing her body against his, her right hand still clutched in his. He kissed her forehead lightly, allowing his lips to linger on her smooth skin. His free hand trailed up to her hair slowly, withdrawing the pins that held her long golden hair up in its tight curls.

"I could have you as my own," he whispered, bringing one golden tendril up to his face and breathing in. "You could rule by my side."

"You will never have me," she snarled.

The man gripped her wrist tighter, squeezing until he could see the form of a flinch in her eyes. "Ah, my dear Prisis, you underestimate my abilities."

Prisis gritted her teeth, willing herself to stay strong; willing herself to do what she came to do. "Then why do you not show me? Show me your ability to overpower someone weaker than you, for that will be the only way you could ever take me."

His upper lip twitched in anger. He pushed her away, thrusting her back from him.

"You wish me to show you my power?" he asked, his voice deepening to echoing levels. "You wish me to show you what happens to those who cross me? Then pay close attention Prisis, for you will not see it again!"

With a primal scream the man threw his arms up toward the ceiling. Wind howled around them, whipping their clothing and hair around their bodies. Thunder rumbled in the air above them; the stones of the building shaking from the sound.

Before Prisis' eyes, a thin silver band formed in front of him. This was her chance. This was her moment to end the suffering of her people.

"Titus!" she screamed over the wailing wind. "This is where you End!"

Titus' eyes widened as he watched her lunge forward, her arms outstretched, her hands reaching for his possession.

* * *

Emory's body convulsed in waves of pain, her back arching high off of the dirty floor. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. Her sightless eyes open wide, staring at nothing and yet everything. Her hands clenched into fists, her dirt covered nails digging into the skin of her palms and drawing blood.

Time was testing her mind and body; inflicting the wounds that she was seeing. The wounds were not her own, nor were the images she was witnessing. She was merely an onlooker to the events that were transpiring and yet everything that occurred to the two, happened to Emory as well.

Emory's mismatched eyes began to glow as the scenes playing in her mind changed. Moments after her body had been wracked by pain, the pain disappeared, her body settling itself down in peace. Her mind settled, her eyes continued to glow, but dimmed slightly. Her hands relaxed, the blood from her palms pooling lightly in the dirt.

Emory's sightless eyes flicked lazily, following the new events taking place.

* * *

Prisis awoke days later, her head throbbing and eyes pounding when the light hit them. Her entire body ached. The soft thatch mattress did nothing to comfort her abused muscles. Soft voices tickled at her ears, and yet she could not make out what they were saying. Prisis could not remember what happened, nor could she remember where she was.

"What is happening?" she asked, her throat dry.

The voices near her quieted causing a silence that Prisis was not sure she liked. "You are awake?"

Prisis blinked against the bright light above her. She flinched as the whiteness of the room burned her left eye. "What- I . . . yes," she answered.

"And you are aware of what has occurred?" a new voice responded.

Prisis squinted her eyes, attempting to put faces to the dark shadows that had appeared around the bed she was laying on. Her voice cracked as she replied, "No. I remember nothing."

"Nothing?" a third voice asked.

"Nothing of the man known as Titus or what happened to him?" the first seconded.

"I-" she stopped, her eyes widening. Images flew through her mind as memories resurfaced. Images of Time running through her; of a bright space with no entry or exit. She remembered a man speaking, his deep voice angry. She remembered the form of another man, still and statuesque, trapped in Time.

And now she remembered. She remembered what had happened. She remembered where she had been. She remembered what had happened to Titus.

"He abused it," she whispered, her heart beginning to pound, "and now he is paying for it. He will not bother us any longer."

"No," the second voice responded. "Nor will anyone else use Chronos' gift for their own gain. We have hidden it in a place only one may find."

"And we will need your assistance once more, my dear."

Prisis sat up, one hand going to her still burning left eye. "I do not understand."

Before anyone else responded, two pairs of hands grabbed Prisis by her arms, dragging her from beneath the soft sheets. She struggled against them with everything that she possessed, but it was not enough. Her muscles were still too weak from her ordeal.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

"We are sorry, my child," one answered. "But this event must occur. You have already bonded with the gift; you have already become One."

"Now you must complete the journey," the second finished.

"Let me go!" Prisis screamed. Moments later she was pushed to her knees in front of the three Elders, her back facing them.

"This is the way it must be," the third replied, ripping open the back of her simple white dress. "You must know that."

"No!" Prisis cried, once again struggling against the two guards' iron grips. "Please just let me go."

The Elders did not respond, merely looked down with impassive faces. One reached behind them, wrapping his long fingers around a heated ceramic staff.

Prisis' back arched, a scream tore from her throat, as the piercing hot pain from the staff tore through her body.

* * *

Emory screamed as pain exploded through her already abused body. Tristan, who had already made his way half way down the wooden steps, paused for a moment and then bolted down the rest of the steps, jumping over the last three to land on the brig floor.

His fingers fumbled with the key to the cell door, his heart pounding as his eyes took hold of Emory's tormented form. Moments later he was by her side on his knees, his hands clutching her shoulders.

"Emory?" he called. "Emory? Good God what's happening to you?"

"She's learning-no. She's witnessing the truth," a smooth, icy voice responded from the shadows.

Tristan turned around quickly, his eyes finding the man who had seemed to just materialize behind him. "What have you done to her?"

The man gave a cold smile. "Simply gave her the ability to see what has occurred."

"What are you talking about?"

He laughed. "Out beautiful captain is witnessing the past." He paused, a malevolent glint entering his dark eyes. "Her past."

"You're insane."

"No. Just impatient."

Tristan jumped to his feet and grabbed the man by his shirt, slamming him into the bars behind. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are?"

"Someone much more important than you, boy. You play nothing more than a side-note while I on the other hand am someone who began this and someone who will end it."

Tristan merely blinked at him. He did not know what to say. How could one respond to that? After everything that he had seen, after everything that he had done, Tristan could not believe what he was hearing. "What are you talking about?" he repeated.

"You're father did not tell you?" the man asked. "He told you nothing of your past? Of your destiny?"

"My father and I," Tristan spat out, "were not always on speaking terms."

"Or perhaps he just did not want you to know who you really are," the man continued, as if he had not heard Tristan at all. "Perhaps he did not want you to meddle with his plans."

"What do you mean 'who I am'?"

The man grinned again. "I should have said who you _were_. That is much more important than who you are now. The only one that matters now is her," he answered, nodding his head in Emory's direction, "and what she remembers."

Tristan hesitated before responding. "Because she bears the map."

The man's grin widened. "No, my dear boy. It is because she is the One, the Chosen. She will be the one to bring everything to a close. Do you see why she is so important? Look at her boy. Look at her and you'll see what you've lost."

Tristan turned his eyes away, gazing down at the still pained form of Emory. He knew the man spoke true. He had lost Emory two years ago. And yet Tristan would swear that he still held some part of her; that some part of her still cared for him. Ever since he had met her he had felt that there was something pushing them together. He had always felt a need to protect her.

"I haven't lost her," he whispered.

"But she doesn't need you," the man replied. "She never has."

Tristan released him slowly, his hands relaxing their grip on his black shirt. "You're wrong."

"Am I? Look at her boy. Look at how strong she is. Watch as she doesn't need you."

Tristan turned away again, his attention once again going to Emory.

* * *

The small boat rocked gently in the rolling waves of the ocean. The gentle motion was almost enough to put the two inhabitants to sleep; if only it wasn't for the pain that they had both just been through.

"Prisis?" his coarse voice called. "Are you still there?"

Prisis smiled weakly although she knew he could not see it. "I'm here, my love," she whispered. Shifting uncomfortably in the boat, Prisis pulled his head onto her lap, her fingers lightly brushing the soft cloth bandage covering his eyes. "And I am so sorry."

The feeling of tears hitting his forehead caused him to lift one arm, blindly searching for her face. "It is not your fault," he whispered.

Prisis took his hand in hers, placing it gently on her tearstained cheek. "Yes, it is. The Gods have punished me."

"Or they have given you a gift."

"I do not want it."

"The Gods do not give us what we want Prisis," he responded. "They give us what we need."

"I need my home, my family, back," she replied. "I need you to have your eyesight back."

"We must be strong. We must prove our worth to the Gods. We will protect our people from their own greed, even if we must be exiled to do so," he answered, ever the optimistic one.

Prisis was silent for a moment, her thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks. "There was more," she said quietly.

"What?"

"There was more," Prisis repeated. "Something that I did not tell the Elders. When Titus summoned Chronos' gift and I touched it, a man appeared. _He_ beat Titus, not me. _He_ destroyed him," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "He spoke to me. He whispered in my ear before he returned me to our world."

"What did he say?"

* * *

Emory's voice shattered the silence of the brig, her eyes glowing bright again momentarily. Tristan's eyes stared down at her worriedly, unsure as to what to do.

"If one is born in each generation then Time shall be safe. But if two are found, it has ended, and Time has shattered," Emory said, her voice echoing across the silent ship.

"What is she talking about?" Tristan asked, confused.

A mischievous smile formed on the man's face. "Why don't you ask her?"

The glow in Emory's eyes died down, settling her eyes to their normal color. Her breathing slowed, the painful tremors that had been wracking her body stilled. With a soft groan, Emory sat up slowly, her muscles screaming with phantom pains. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly to allow the inhale and exhale of her breath. Emory's hair fell over her face hiding any movement or expression she could possibly make.

Not sure if he should go to her, Tristan merely called out, "Emory?"

Emory's head shot up like a leaf caught in a hard burst of wind. Slowly she turned to face them, her discolored eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. Tristan felt as if she were looking through him. Her gaze sent shivers down his spine. He had never seen her this way before.

And then he realized that she was not looking at him. She was looking behind him.

Emory's voice shot out of the shadows like a predator attacking its prey. "Titus," she seethed.

A laugh burst forth in the darkness, echoing in the dreary night.

* * *

AN: Yay! An update! God it has been forever. And I do so apologize for that, but my muse decided to die on me. But I have since found a new one! How about a round of applause. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter since it took me forever to write it.

And normally I would do reviews of the reviews here, but since ff dot net now frowns on that, I am going to have to skip it. If you have a burning question that you would like me to respond to, then I will reply to the review somehow. Enjoy!


	18. Reunions

_"Man's loneliness is only his fear of life."_

_Grim; The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Seventeen: Reunions**

"Mother, what is it?"

"I . . . I don't know. Something just seems off. I can feel it in my heart."

Emily stared at her mother, taking in her pale face and worried eyes. She had never seen her mother look this worried in her life. "You do not think something happened, do you?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "No. I don't think so. It's something else." She sighed. "I just wish I knew what it was. It's an ache; a fear. I'm not sure why I should feel afraid."

Emily grasped Elizabeth's hand, squeezing it gently for reassurance. She was not sure why her mother was feeling this way. Nothing had happened in the last few days. The nights had been unusually dark; no moon had shone from behind thick clouds.

Something bad was happening. Something was going on somewhere and she did not know if she wanted to find out what it was.

* * *

It was a stalemate. Both of them refused to look away. Emory's eyes had hardened; her gold eye almost mirroring her black one. The man merely smiled down at her, his dark eyes emitting a devilish glow. 

"Are you happy to see me?" he asked.

"Unlock these chains Titus and I'll show you just how happy to see you I am," she seethed.

"You always were a fighter," he mused. "That fire always burned deep inside of you. That is what I always admired about you. You were beautiful, to be sure, but you were so strong-willed, so . . . feisty." Titus knelt down, grabbing her chin with one hand, tilting her head to face him. He leaned in slightly, his lips nearly brushing hers. "I have always found your spirit rather . . . arousing," he whispered.

Tristan, having had enough of the games Titus was playing, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled back roughly. Titus flew back from the force of the throw, his back slamming into the cell bars.

Tristan was on him a moment later, his left arm pushing into Titus' throat. "Leave her alone."

Titus gave a bark of laughter. "You don't want to be in this, boy," he seethed.

"Too late," Tristan replied, pushing harder. "Or did you forget that I'm already involved?"

"You are a part of it boy, but you don't know everything."

Tristan's grey eyes hardened. "Then explain it to me."

Titus laughed again. With a sudden movement, he slammed his right palm into Tristan's chest, throwing him backwards to land at Emory's chained feet.

"Tristan," Emory whispered, her chained arms clutching his shoulders.

"You can't beat me boy. You have no hope of ever beating me. I could destroy you with a thought." A wicked grin crossed his face. "But I won't for now. It will be so much more fun to kill you when your lover cannot stop me."

Titus laughed again, turning around slowly to leave the cell. He shut the gated door, turning the key in the lock. "I will leave you here for now, boy," he growled. His eyes turned almost lustful as he finished, "but I will be back to claim _you_, Prisis. I have not waited all this time to lose you again. The Gift and you _will_ be mine."

Before they could reply, Titus melted into the shadows, nothing but a pair of glowing eyes marking where he had only moments before stood.

"That bastard!" Emory seethed, her eyes flaring. "I'll kill him." A hand touched her cheek, causing her to look down. A flash of memory echoed through her mind at the gesture.

Tristan moved his hand to the back of her neck, entangling his fingers in her already mussed up hair. He pulled her face down to meet his, catching her lips with his. Emory resisted at first; she struggled to pull away from him, but he held onto her neck tighter. After a moment she gave in to the kiss, putting all her anger into it.

Minutes later Tristan broke away, panting. "We need to get you out of here."

"Why?" she asked, her chained hands clutching his face. She brushed her lips against his, nibbling on his lower lip. "Would you rather have me somewhere else?" she whispered.

Tristan closed his eyes against the feelings she was waking in his body. There were more important things right now. He had to get her out before his father could get the map. "Em-"

"Shh."

Tristan pushed himself up, tearing himself away from her hands and turning to face her. "No, listen to me. My father and that bastard Titus will torture you until you give them the map. You know that."

Emory raised her chin slightly as if you show him defiance. "I know what they plan, Tristan, and I'm not worried. I can take care of myself."

Tristan reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm. "I don't want to see you get hurt," he whispered.

Emory's cold eyes met his, unblinking and unwavering. "_You_ already hurt me."

Tristan dropped his hand and scooted back quickly. "Em-"

"You're sorry?" she finished. "So ye've told me."

"Emory you know-"

"Innit this sweet?"

Emory's head jerked up at the voice. Tristan turned on his knees, his hands searching for his missing sword. His eyes narrowed. "Father."

Skinner smirked. "'Ello _son._ You remind me of yer mother when ya look at me like that."

Tristan fought back the flinch that rose at Skinner's words. Even though he had not liked his mother, it did not mean he would stand idly by while someone talked about her. "Are you growing a conscience, _father_?"

Skinner gave a bark of laughter. "Highly unlikely, lad," he replied, opening the gate and walking through. Tristan stood up quickly, placing himself between Skinner and Emory. Skinner laughed again. "So you think you can protect her? I find that rather funny."

Skinner snapped his fingers and moments later three men entered the cell. One withdrew a sword, holding it to Tristan's throat. The other two men grabbed his arms, pulling him roughly to his father's side.

Skinner turned to him, his black eyes laughing. "Now you can watch, lad, as I break your lover's spirit," he whispered, pulling out a long, slender blade. "The map and the treasure will belong to me. I will break her spirit and make her mine."

Tristan struggled against the two men until the sword was pressed deeper into his throat. He could do nothing but watch as Skinner knelt in front of Emory, the grin on his face widening.

"Have ya decided to give me what I want lass?"

Emory's eyes narrowed at him and then she spit; the spittle landing in his eye. Skinner closed his eyes, one shaking hand rising to wipe his eye clean. "Such manners, lass," he muttered, flicking his hand, flinging the spit away. "Yer mum was the same way. Good thing I know how to deal with obstinate bitches like you."

Skinner flipped the dagger in his hand easily and slammed it down, burying the blade into her leg to the hilt. Pain leaked into Emory's eyes as she breathed in sharply. She would not scream; she would not give him the satisfaction.

She would not let him win.

* * *

Jack stepped up onto the deck, humming to himself. The sun was just rising on the horizon, the rays glowing in the blue water. He stopped as his eyes caught sight of a lone woman standing at the bow, her chocolate brown hair flowing in the slight wind. He stood still for a moment, deciding if he should bother her. The last time they had talked she had not been very receptive to what he had to tell her. 

He sighed, deciding the poor girl probably needed someone to talk to. "Mornin' love." He said as he stepped up to her.

Rebecca jumped at his voice, having not heard his footsteps as he walked up to her. "Good morning Captain."

Jack smiled as he stepped up next to her, leaning his arms against the railing. He was expecting a reaction like this. "Did ya sleep well?"

"I could not sleep. I have too much on my mind."

"Ah."

"Did you love her?" she asked suddenly.

Jack blinked. "Who?"

"Lor Adams. My . . . mother."

Jack was silent for a moment, his eyes staring unseeingly at the ocean. "Aye."

"And did you love us? Before you gave us away, that is."

Jack drew back at the harshness of her words. "Ya know there were extenuating circumstances regarding me lettin' you guys go."

"Yes, but-"

"I kept a promise, one that didn't work out the way it was supposed to. Skinner wasn't supposed to come back. Both of you stayed safe fer twenty years," he paused. "Although yer sister protected herself. An' there's still somethin' about that Conway . . ."

"Since I do not have the map and my sister does, what do I have to do with any of this?"

"Haven't quite figured that out yet. I'm figurin' it has ta do wit' yer blood. Yer of the same bloodline as Lor which means yer tied ta the bloody treasure as well."

Rebecca nodded silently. "You mentioned something about a prophecy."

Jack smiled down at her. "Aye, that I did. 'Two children born, of blood divide. One born to bear witness, to the rising of the Past. One born to bear the Key, hidden in the blood of old, and unseen eyes.' I believe _you _are only spoken of twice in the Prophecy. You bore witness to Skinner. Later the Prophecy spoke of a line being broken and an equal taken. I think yer the equal."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Emory is my twin and Skinner kidnapped me."

"Aye," Jack replied again.

"So all I'm supposed to do is watch? All I am here for is to witness the past?"

"There's more I'm sure. Once we get to the island-"

"What island?" she asked, interrupting him.

Jack looked at her as if she were insane. "The island with the treasure. Where else would we go?"

"I don't know." Rebecca sighed. "I just want to go home," she whispered.

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gestured to the sea with his other hand. "In a way ya already are."

* * *

Tristan wiped a trail of blood from Emory's cheek. His father and his men had left a few minutes before; leaving Emory slumped over in a painful huddle. Her eyes were dazed, the pain dulling them. Blood soaked her breeches and shirt, some even puddled beneath her on the dark wooden floor boards. 

"Emory, are you all right?"

"As w'll . . . as c'n be exp'cted," she muttered, her words slurring together.

Tristan had already tied a tourniquet around her leg, stopping the wound there from bleeding. The rest of the wounds, the deep gashes and burns, he could nothing with. There was nothing he could do for her pain.

A trembling hand caught hold of his, startling him from his reverie. "Em?"

"St'y wi' me?" she asked, her eyes closing slowly.

Tristan nodded even though he knew she did not see him and propped himself up against the brig wall, laying her bruised body against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her forehead resting against the crook of his neck. He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips against her forehead.

They would get through this. He could find a way to get them through this.

* * *

**AN:** Normally I would give a review to the reviewers, but I am about to run late for work, so today I must forgo that. But I would like to say thank you to all who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed! 


	19. Pain

_"Tragedy blows through your life like a tornado, uprooting everything. Creating chaos. You wait for the dust to settle and then you choose. You can live in the wreckage and pretend it's still the mansion you remember. Or you can crawl from the rubble and slowly rebuild." Veronica; Veronica Mars_

**AN: **There is a hint of rape in this chapter. If you disagree with this please skip over that section. I will mark the section with '**xXx**' to show it. I am very sorry if this upsets anyone.

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Eighteen: Pain**

Her screams echoed throughout the ship; her agony and anger merging into one painful shriek. She had sworn to herself that she would not scream; that she would not give him the satisfaction. But everything he had done to her, all the stabbings, the burnings, the slicings had broken through her threshold. She had been hurt in ways she never thought possible.

"Does it hurt lass?" Skinner whispered. His fingers trailed down her skin. "Do you feel the pain seeping into your bones?"

Emory gasped in response, her lungs burning with each breath. Her flesh twitched under his fingers, her back arching as his fingertips brushed a tender bruise on her chest.

"I can feel yer muscles beneath yer skin. I can feel them twitch and writhe as you move, as you try to hold back your screams. I can hear yer heart pounding every time I touch you," he stopped for a moment, his eyes drinking in her bleeding wounds. "I will break you," he whispered, leaning in close to her ear. "That last glimmer of hope that is in yer eyes will disappear. You will be mine. You will do as I say and obey me."

Emory drew in a shaky breath. "I-" she started, and then stopped, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. "I . . . will _never_ . . . obey you."

Skinner laughed. "Still so strong. So stubborn," he sneered. "Let's see if we can break you of that."

* * *

Her eyes were barely open, her mind in a hazy fog. Through the fog in her mind she could swear she saw someone, a woman standing over her. The woman, the ghost of a woman more like, knelt down next to her, running a wisp of a hand over her bleeding cheek.

"My poor little girl," the woman whispered. "You've been through so much, seen so much. You should never have had to go through this. You should have had an easier life."

Emory tried to open her eyes wider, tried to get her mind to focus on her surroundings. "Unh . . ."

"Shh, my child. It's time. You have to take him to the caves. It will end soon. Titus has to be stopped."

"Ti . . . tus."

"Take them there," the ghost whispered. "Take them and end this."

* * *

"Jack."

Jack's eyes twitched. He had been dozing; his eyes had only closed for a few minutes. He grumbled to himself. He hadn't gone to sleep the night before, choosing instead to pore over maps and charts.

"Jack," the voice whispered again. "Jack, go to the island. You have to beat him there. Go quickly. It's time."

Jack's eyes shot open, searching maniacally around the cabin. "Lor?"

His eyes found no one; no image of a woman; no soft gold eyes. "I'm goin' crazy," he finally muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. A soft knock on the door drew his gaze up. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, hesitantly, to reveal Conway, Emory's first mate. "Beggin' yer pardon Cap'n," he began.

Jack nodded. "What can I do for you, Mr. Conway?"

"I've been meanin' ta talk to you Cap'n, since way before this whole mess began."

Jack looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. He flipped his hand at him, silently telling him to continue.

"I've known you for years, Captain Sparrow," at this Jack sat up from his reclined position. "I was part of Captain Adams' crew."

"Lor?" Jack questioned.

"Aye."

"That's impossible. All of her crew was killed more than twenty years ago."

Conway shook his head, a sad smile crossing his lips. "Near as I can tell I was the only survivor, save for Cap'n Adams. I looked for her for two years; every time I kept missing her. I gave up once I heard the rumors of her death. I met up with one of yer crew in Tortuga an' he was carryin' Emory. I knew then the rumors of her death were true."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember a Conway on Lor's crew."

Conway laughed slightly, an embarrassed laugh. "No, sir. I wasn't known as Conway then. Captain Adams called me Skids."

"Ah. The pick-pocket from Tortuga," Jack replied, recognition dawning on him. "How'd you survive?"

"Wasn't my time to die."

Jack stared over at him, sitting back in his seat again. "Was that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No sir. It's about Captain Wyatt."

"What about her?"

"Not what sir. Who."

* * *

**xXx**

The splash of cold water hit her, jolting her immediately awake. The salt water burned her wounds, causing her to hiss in pain.

"My poor beautiful girl," Titus said, staring down at her, an empty bucket held loosely in his hands. "How mistreated you are. How tortured, how abused."

"Go ta 'ell."

Titus smirked. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll bring it here. The world will be a much better place once I own it."

"Not while I still protect it," she hissed.

He laughed, kneeling down next to her. He reached out one hand, trailing his fingers lightly down her cheeks. Titus leaned into her, his free hand going to the back of her neck, holding her to him. "I will have you as my queen," he whispered, his free hand roaming down her chest. Emory fought back a scream as the palm of his hand dug into a cut on her stomach. "For centuries I have longed for you, but you were always out of reach, Prisis. But not anymore. I am one step away from reclaiming this world and you."

"You never had me," she gasped. "It was part of yer sick imagination."

Titus laughed again. "Sick?" he asked, pushing her forcefully to the ground. "I'll show you just how sick my imagination can be."

* * *

Jack stared over at Conway, his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I know its difficult Cap'n, but you gotta believe me. It's imperitive that you do. The fate of this world depends on it."

Jack was silent for a moment. "So, yer-"

"Yes."

"An' Emory is-"

"Yes."

"So who's Skinner?"

Conway ran a hand through his thinning hair. "The bastard is no one. He's just a nuisance; a man obsessed with somethin' that doesn't belong to 'im."

"Sounds like a pirate." Jack replied, grinning.

Conway laughed. "But 'e's not the one we need ta be worryin' about. The other man is."

Jack watched Conway, the way he moved, the way his face lost all humor as he spoke. His eyes told the full story. His eyes bore all seriousness as he spoke his words. His eyes bore all the hatred while his voice remained calm. His eyes held Jack's as he spoke, never wavering, never breaking contact.

His muscles would tense, his hands clenching into fists, the only outward sign that he was aggravated. His tale had revealed an integral clue to the mystery of the treasure and the people surrounding it. His words had woven a tapestry of information that Jack had not previously known.

Now the only thing he had to do was figure out what he believed.

* * *

"How are you feeling Rebecca?"

Rebecca's head shot up to see Michel standing in front of her, a plate of food in his hands. He sat down slowly, a smile lighting his face. "I know things have been difficult for you."

Rebecca smiled slightly. "I am fine. I- I have had time to think things over."

"And?" he asked hopefully.

"And I have decided that I will accept things the way they are," she paused. "For now."

Michel watched her closely; watching as she picked at her food. He reached out a hand and placed it on her own hand, stilling her movements. "Rebecca, I'm sorry that we never told you. You know we did it to protect you, right?"

Rebecca smiled again. "I know."

* * *

Alex watched as his father sharpened the blade of his sword, the metal glinting in the sunlight. His gaze turned to the closed door of the captain's quarters. Conway had been visiting for most of the day, he and Jack holed up in the room discussing God knows what.

"He'll tell us when he's ready Alex."

"What do you suppose they're talking about?"

Will shrugged, still focusing on the blade in his hands. "I don't know. Just relax, he'll tell us when he's ready."

Alex sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I'm just tired of waiting."

Will finally looked up, his hands stilling. He saw the anger and the fear etched on his son's face, revealing much more than Alex would ever say. "It will be okay Alex. I know you're angry. I know that it's still hard on you even after all these years. But it will be okay. Neither I nor Jack will allow anything to happen to you again."

Alex sat down next to his father, his eyes closed. "I just-I'm-" he paused, taking in a deep breath. "I'm afraid," he finished, allowing his military demeanor to crumble. "It has been over twenty years but I can still feel the fear that I felt when I was a child."

Will reached over, wrapping his arm around Alex's shoulders and drawing him to his chest. Will had known that Alex had been acting different since meeting Skinner again in the cave, but he had not realized how deep the fear had settled.

"It will be all right," he whispered. "I promise you that this will all be over soon."

* * *

Emory hurt. She was in pain. Her muscles screamed in agony as her mind reeled. She bore bruises on top of bruises, new cuts and pain in places she didn't even think possible. Old wounds had been reopened, trails of blood trickled down her skin. His laughter still echoed in her ears even after he had left, causing constant shivers down her spine.

Emory could still feel his hands on her body. Every place he had touched her felt like they were on fire. She could feel screams building up inside of her. Her back arched as she tried to move. Her hands clenched, her jagged nails biting into her palms, drawing blood.

Finally the scream erupted, burning her lungs and echoing throughout the ship. All of her pain, all of her anger, all of her fear was laced in the scream. Every wrong that was done to her was released. Every hope, every dream, every love was let go as the scream erupted from her body.

* * *

"She's not just the Guardian, Cap'n Sparrow," Conway whispered. "You know that, right?"

"I guessed as much."

"She'll be the one to end this. She's the prophesied one. She is the Key."

* * *

**AN: **Wow. That has to be one of the most emotionally charged chapter that I have ever written. At least to me. I hope that all of you liked it. I had some trepidation about it at first, but then realized this is how it had to be. Let me know what you think!

Now, on to the reviewers!

**PineAppleLint**Yes, that was a disturbing chapter, but what did you think about this one? And don't forget that Jack hasn't aged. While in reality he's around 60 (or something) since he's tied to the map he hasn't aged. Nor has the crew of the _Pearl_. I hope you enjoyed.

**Dawnie-7: **They are one big happy family, aren't they?

**The DuTchess of Doom: **Well . . . they haven't found a way out yet, but I hope you liked it anyway. This one was darker than the last, but it reveals so much more!


	20. Giving In

_"You are not what you were born, but what you have it in yourself to be."_

_Godfrey of Ibelin; __Kingdom__ of __Heaven_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Nineteen: Giving In**

She had called for him. Tristan had overheard Compton, his father's first mate, telling Skinner that Emory wanted to see him. His heart began to pound as he remembered the piercing scream that had woken him in the middle of the night. It had scared him, jolting him out of a restless sleep. His body had hurt for hours afterward, every muscle ached, every bone felt as if it would break if he moved.

And he knew. The aches and pains had stopped hours later, as had the feeling of utter helplessness. Only moments before had the pain come back and he then actually realized it was hers. It was Emory's pain and heartache.

A pounding on his door startled him, causing him to jump. He cursed softly to himself for allowing someone to startle him. The door flew open before he could answer, his father standing in the doorway, leering at him.

"Why bother knocking if you weren't going to wait for an answer?"

Skinner smirked at him. "I was lettin' my presence be known, boy. Yer comin' with me."

Tristan stared at him, disdain and hatred dripping from his gaze. "And where are we going?"

"Ta visit Cap'n Wyatt. Apparently she's 'ad a change o' 'eart."

Tristan looked down. He had no desire to see a woman with such a strong will give up. But then he realized that he had no desire to have Emory alone with his father either. Despite the fact that Skinner was about to get exactly what he wanted, there was no telling what he would do to her afterwards.

"Well, boy?"

"I'm coming," Tristan replied. He didn't like the grin that crossed his father's face as he turned around.

He had a feeling he was not going to like what was going to happen.

* * *

"Why are we going there Jack? There's nothing there but water." Will said, his finger lying lightly on the map on Jack's desk.

"So it seems. But years ago Lor showed me the map on 'er back. She showed me the location of the island an' the treasure."

"You must remember, Mr. Turner," Conway broke in, "that the island is kept hidden from the normal world. The Elders wanted to protect the treasure. They wanted no one else to find and abuse it."

"But how could it not have been found?" James asked. "After all these years, how could it have stayed hidden?"

Conway shrugged. "Don't know the full story. I believe that the Gods grew angry and cursed the island. The Gods were the ones who gave the Lost People the gift; obviously it was easy for them to take it away."

"Why is this treasure so important?" Michel wanted to know.

Conway opened his mouth and then shut it. He looked over at Jack, his eyebrows raised. Jack nodded his acquisance. "The treasure," Conway began, "is the ultimate gift, the ultimate ability."

"The only thing is," Jack interrupted, "is that the treasure is protected."

"Protected?" Will queried. "You don't mean cursed? What are we going to be dealing with?"

"There is only one protecting it. Emory is the Key to enter the caves and to find the island. There will be a test of sorts."

"A test?" Michel repeated.

Conway nodded. "Aye. But not one we have to pass. That is for the Guardian."

"How do you know all of this?" Alex asked.

Conway took a deep breath. "I am part of this. I am a descendant of one of the Elders of the Insula Peritorum. My family, or so our family history goes, was ordered by the God Chronos to keep watch of the Guardians. We do not interfere unless absolutely necessary. I have deemed it so now."

"Why?" Michel interjected.

"When we were in the cave I sensed an evil, malicious presence-"

"And when he searched the cavern," Jack broke in, "he saw the bastard who started this whole blasted mess."

"We all saw Skinner Jack," Will stated.

Conway laughed quietly. "Skinner is nothing more than a means to an end. The man that is here, the man that has somehow been resurrected is named Titus. Thousands of years ago he controlled the Gift, killing hundreds and bringing Chaos to earth. The first Guardian, Prisis, was the one who killed him. She was the one who brought Peace back to the land."

"What I don't understand," James replied, "is why this Gift is so important. What is it?"

Conway's eyes flickered for a moment, gazing solemnly into each man's eyes. Finally, he spoke: "Time."

* * *

"What is 'e doin' 'ere?" Emory whispered, her voice cracking.

Skinner laughed. "I guess you could consider 'im insurance. You don't give me what I want," he paused for effect. "I'll kill 'im."

"You wouldn't kill yer own son," Emory replied, her eyes glancing over at Tristan, a knife held tightly against his throat. "Not when you know 'ow important 'e is."

Skinner laughed again. "'E's not that important, love. 'E's yer Protector; 'e's not a Guardian like you. Fact is, I kill 'im, makes it's easier ta get ta you."

"You son of a bitch!" Tristan growled. "You're getting what you want! Stop taunting her!"

Skinner looked at Tristan for a moment, a sneer growing on his lips. "Is it botherin' you boy? Are ya worried 'bout yer precious lover?" His fingers trailed up Emory's chest, skimming over the injured skin showing through her tattered shirt. Skinner's eyes never left Tristan's. He was enjoying watching fear flicker in Tristan's eyes; enjoyed watching as anger clouded his face.

Skinner grabbed Emory's chin with one hand, turning her face to his. "I can see yer anger lass. I can see yer will ready to break. You know that if you try ta screw me over like yer mother did, I won't hesitate to kill 'im. 'E means nothin' ta me," he whispered.

"'E's yer son," Emory stated again.

Skinner's left eye twitched. "So? It won't stop me. I would only be riddin' the world of 'im. One less ruthless bastard ta deal with."

Emory did not respond to his taunt.

"'E's more like me that ya think. Do you know what 'e did when 'e was fifteen?"

Tristan struggled against the men holding him; struggled against the knife at his neck. "Stop."

"Did you know," Skinner started again, leaning closer to Emory, "that 'e killed 'is own mother?"

Emory's eyes flicked to Tristan's, attempting to read any emotion in them. "Put a bullet right between 'er eyes fer no reason." Skinner continued.

"Stop telling her lies!" Tristan shouted. "You sick bastard!"

Emory held her weary gaze steady, silently taking in everything that was being said.

"So yer denyin' killin' yer mum?"

Tristan was silent, his eyes boring into Emory's. He seemed almost worried about what she would think; what she would feel.

"No," he finally stated. "I'm not denying it. You're just not telling the truth. You know why I killed my mother; you know exactly why I'm the way that I am."

A grin lit Skinner's face. Finally the boy would admit to being as ruthless and sadistic as his father.

"You know my mother was abusive. After you _raped_ her and left her she had no compassion for me. She had no love for the bastard son of a pirate. It was self defense when I shot her." He stopped and took a deep breath. This was not how he wanted this to be. "But I don't regret doing it. I don't feel bad about killing her. My life was better once she was gone."

Emory smiled slightly. "I remember that night," she stated softly. "I remember seeing them taking out her body. And I remember seeing you. You looked angry, so . . . lost."

Tristan stared over at her, shock registering in his eyes. "You knew?"

"I knew you had killed a woman, but I never knew who she was." She turned to Skinner. "You can't tell me anythin' I didn't already know."

Skinner's grin slipped for a moment and then widened. He liked this girl so much more than her mother. She was so . . . so devious. She even seemed heartless at times, unlike her bleeding hearted mother. "It's still on yer back then," he stated.

Emory leaned over slightly, her chained arms wrapped around her chest. "Aye."

Carefully, tentatively, Skinner moved behind her and crouched down. He felt her body stiffen as he lifted her shirt, the intricate designs and letters revealing themselves as the cloth was removed. Skinner let out a small hiss of pleasure as his eyes drank in the map. "Show it to me," he whispered.

Emory's eyes gazed up into Tristan's, an odd look flitting through them. He tried to read the look, tried to decipher what she was silently trying to tell him, but she closed her eyes before he could.

A calm look crossed her face as she began to concentrate. Suddenly her eyes flew open, an eerie light shining through them. Skinner's eyes widened as he watched her back. The glow that shone through her eyes filtered through her skin, causing her back to light up. The images shifted on her skin, the letters, once undecipherable gibberish, moved to form words that he could now read.

Emory gasped as the glow in her skin receded; the map having finally been revealed. A gust of wind blew through the brig, rustling their clothing and hair. The two superstitious pirates that held Tristan shifted on their feet; their eyes glancing around nervously. A voice seemed to drift in on the wind, carrying a word that all of them knew.

"Sparrow," it whispered.

"Sparrow," Emory repeated, her eyes glowing for a moment more.

* * *

Miles away on another ship sailing in a different direction, a pair of eyes begin to glow. Her back grows rigid, causing her to sit bolt upright.

"Sparrow."

* * *

Skinner jerked back as Emory spoke. He wrapped his hand around her chin, yanking her head back. "Why do you people keep saying his name? What's made _him_ so important?" he whispered furiously.

Emory smirked weakly. "A Sparrow will hold the key."

"So?"

"I'm a Sparrow. He isn't important. Not like I am," she lied.

Skinner stared down at her for a moment and then, satisfied with her answer, let go of her chin. Instead his gaze returned to her back, his eyes drinking in the designs and words.

"'He who searched for the gift of Time shall find the curse of she who protects it.'" He read, his rough fingers skimming the skin of her back. He laughed. "What are you going to do? I've already died once, ya can't scare me wit' a simple curse!"

"Ya ne'er know," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping. Her wounds still bled. Her body still hurt from the abuse it had been given. Emory's muscles screamed in protest at having to stay chained. She longed to move; longed to fight back. She wished she could have stayed strong and not given in to Skinner's demands.

A fist slamming into her lower back caused her eyes to fly open as a gasp escaped her lips. "I know the rules bitch," Skinner's voice said in her ear. "'The chosen's blood must be spilt'. Which means I can't kill ya," a lewd grin crossed his face, "but I can play."

* * *

Titus' eyes opened slowly. It was almost time. He could sense it; he could _feel_ it. The treasure was calling just as it had all those centuries ago. Excitement surged through his body. He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait for it to be his again.

And this time he would succeed.

* * *

Rebecca woke to find half a dozen people standing over her. Her head pounded; her eyes burned.

"Rebecca?"

Rebecca tilted her head slightly, her eyes taking in the impassive look on Jack's face. "Captain Sparrow?" She saw the slight flinch that crossed his face but pretended not to notice. Rebecca knew that she should at least try to accept who he was, who _she_ was, but it was difficult. She had grown up believing she was somebody she wasn't.

"Are ya alright?" he asked, masking the hurt that flashed in his eyes. "Michel said ya collapsed after sayin' my name."

"I-" she started and then paused, her eyes narrowing. "I don't remember."

"What do you remember?"

"I was sitting with Michel, talking about home. And then I felt a gust of wind, which I found odd because we were sitting in my cabin, and then a voice whispered your name. I remember seeing images of a cave, treasure surrounding me, but nothing more."

"Nothin' else?" he questioned.

Rebecca shook her head slowly, careful not to anger the headache that was threatening her. "No, nothing."

Jack was silent, his dark eyes gazing into hers. His gaze was unsettling; never wavering nor blinking. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in the lamplight.

"So she's shown 'im," he turned to Will standing next to him. "It's begun. We 'ave ta beat 'im there. Everythin' is ridin' on us makin' it there first."

Will gave a nod of understanding. "I'll let AnaMaria know. I'm sure we can gather some more speed in the sails," he answered and then turned from them and hurried from the room.

Jack turned back to Rebecca, his eyes once again gazing into hers. "I'll need ya ta rest up love. It's when we get ta the island that we'll really need ya."

Rebecca nodded even though she did not quite understand. What did he have planned?

* * *

Titus stared down at the still bleeding form of Emory. More wounds had been inflicted on her; her left eye was almost completely swelled shut, her nose was bleeding and a deep gash in her side refused to close. He knew she would live. There would have been no point in killing her before they reached the island.

Titus almost wished that Skinner had merely taken the map from her, doing whatever was necessary to do so. He would have liked to hold the map in his own hands; would have liked to feel it between his fingers. But he knew doing so could possibly alter the map. Titus really did not want to see whether or not Emory could control it from a distance.

Something akin to laughter bubbled up in his throat and he almost released it but stopped as he realized he did not want to wake the sleeping captain. Titus knelt down next to her and bent at the waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, allowing it to linger for awhile.

He could taste her blood, could taste her very soul. It had not broken. He drew back, frowning. Her will had not cracked. She was planning something but for the life of him he could not figure out what. She would not give the location away so easily, he knew that, but yet . . .

Titus paused. Perhaps he should wake her. A cruel smirk crossed his face. Perhaps he should _make_ her talk; make her tell him what she was planning. Yes. That sounded wonderful. What a brilliant idea.

His fingers trailed down to the newest wound in her side, his thumb digging in unmercifully. Titus watched as her eyes shot open; watched as a scream tore from her beautiful mouth.

Oh yes, this would be fun.

* * *

**AN: **Yay! A new chapter! Sorry it took so long guys. I was engrossed in reading the new Harry Potter book. Simply wonderful. But here it is, nevertheless. I hope you all enjoy!

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I'm glad you liked it! I'm not sure how intense this chapter was, but I hope you still liked it! I was noticing when I was writing the other day that it's become considerably darker as it goes on. Not quite sure why, but it has!

**Smithy:** Yeah, I felt kinda sorry for him when I wrote that. Twenty years later and he could still feel the fear that he felt when he was a child.

**PineAppleLint**Thank you! I'm glad that you liked it. Titus is a terrible person, so the chapter had to reflect that. And yes, it's wonderful to think of Jack in prime condition. It's a wonderful vision.

**Dawnie-7: **It gave you the creeps? Really? Wow. I don't think anyone has every told me that before. It makes me feel kinda proud actually. I hope you liked this one too!


	21. Arrival

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result."

Dilbert

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Twenty: Arrival**

Jack stood watching, his eyes staring at the empty expanse of sea in front of him. It was here, he knew it was. The only problem was deciphering the riddle on how exactly to find it.

They had dropped anchor little over half an hour ago, ending in the exact spot that the map had indicated. Jack looked up into the sky, his right hand raising up to cover his eyes, effectively blocking out the sun. He was hoping that the sky would offer some form of an answer for him; giving him the answer that he so desperately desired. Nothing. Not even a single, dark, ominous cloud to show that a storm was on the way.

"Bugger," he muttered, his eyes going back to the water. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger."

"Are you alright Jack?" Will asked, coming up beside Jack. "You seem a little irritated."

"I can't figure it out," Jack answered after a minute. "This is the right spot; the right coordinates, but there's nothing here."

Will's eyebrows furrowed, concern crossing his face. "Is there something that you're missing? Maybe something from the Prophecy?"

The words to the Prophecy ran through Jack's mind for a moment, his mind turning the words over and over. Finally he shook his head. "No, nothing."

"Hmmm. Maybe something on the map then? I know it was a long time ago that you saw it, but-"

"Yes," Jack interrupted, a grin growing on his lips, his gold teeth flashing. "That's it! The map!"

Will stared at Jack for a moment, wondering if his old friend had lost what little of his mind he had left. "What about the map, Jack?"

"There was a message on it, something I didn't understand until now. We're going to need Rebecca."

Will drew back. "Rebecca? Why?"

"'The blood of the Chosen must be spilt,'" Jack recited immediately. "We need 'er blood."

"But she's not the Chosen."

Jack's grin widened, his brown eyes twinkling. ""No, but she's 'er twin. It'll do. Her blood'll 'ave ta work."

"But Jack-"

Jack waved his hands in the air, giving Will a glimpse of the man he used to be. "Always somethin' logical with you, eh? This island holds a treasure that allows you to alter Time mate, nothin' logical about that at all. She's got my blood an' her mum's blood in her. She'll do," he flipped his hands at Will in a dismissing gesture. "Now go. Get Rebecca. The island's just dyin' ta reveal itself."

* * *

"I can't help but feel that I should be there helping them."

"Our uncle is doing all he can."

Thomas snorted. "Jack Sparrow is a pirate. If he is doing all he can, why has he not brought Rebecca back?"

Emily sighed. "Something has happened apparently. Something that was out of his control; out of anyone's control. Once everything is dealt with, they will be back."

Thomas sat down in the sand, the slight wind playing with the tendrils of hair that had escaped his ponytail. "I'm just worried."

Emily wrapped her hand around his, squeezing gently. "I know. We all are."

* * *

Tristan stared down at Emory as she slept, her knees pulled up tightly to her chest, sleeping in a fetal position. He knelt down next to her, his left hand reaching out to tenderly brush a strand of hair off of her face. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as his eyes took in the various wounds all over her body.

Tristan hated seeing her like this; hated seeing her so weak. Emory was a strong woman; a woman who had the weight of the world put on her shoulders alone and yet it did not bring her down. And yet that was what he loved about her.

Wait? Love? _Did_ he lover her? Was the burning desire to protect her stemming from his love for her or was it from something else? The answer to every question that ran through his mind was simple. Yes. He did. Tristan knew he had loved her from the very first time he laid eyes on her.

The only reason she was alive today was from him only shooting her in a non-fatal place. Tristan had fought with himself two years ago after shooting her. For two months he had drowned himself in drink and nothing else. Until his father had found him again. After that he had buried his emotions, setting a steely resolve as he had the night he had killed his mother. He would allow nothing to break through; not anger, despair, not even love.

And all of his barriers, all of his blockades sealing away his emotions had led him here, brought him to the point of watching the woman he loved be tortured. And he knew there was nothing he could do about it. His father was a sick man who delighted in destroying the lives of people weaker than him. And all Tristan could do was watch.

He could do nothing to stop it; nothing to prevent all the pain she was going through. All he could do was offer a form of comfort.

Tristan rolled her gently onto her back, caressing her arms and neck as he went, careful not to brush any abrasions. Emory whimpered slightly in her sleep and he could see her struggling with herself to fight him; to push him away.

"Shh, Em," he whispered cupping her chin with both hands. "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Emory's eyes opened blearily, her beautiful eyes bloodshot and screaming with pain. "Tris'an?"

"Shh," he replied, his chest beginning to hurt from holding in all of his anger. "I'm going to try to clean your wounds okay? Will you be alright?" he asked, holding his gaze steady.

Emory nodded into his hands at his words. Tristan removed his hands slowly and reached for the bucket full of water that he had brought with him. She winced as the rough cloth brushed her wounds. Her hands dug into the dirty ground; he could see her biting her bottom lip in pain. Emory was trying to be strong for him. He knew that and it killed him.

Tristan pulled away minutes later, the bucket of water now tinged red. He dropped the stained cloth in the water, satisfied that the dried blood was cleaned to the best of his ability. Emory's breathing had slowed finally, her eyes only open a crack. He leaned back one more time, his hand grasping the neck of the bottle resting behind him.

Emory's eyes shot open as she noticed the bottle of liquor held tightly in his hand. Tristan held her gaze, his grey eyes staring into hers. He opened the bottle slowly and tipped it over slightly, soaking a clean rag with the liquid. Tristan leaned over her, tucking his left hand underneath her neck. He pulled her head up to meet his, crushing his lips to hers in a rough kiss just as he pressed the rum soaked rag to the newest wound in her side.

Tristan felt the scream of pain well up in her chest but refused to release her, swallowing any noise she made. When finally her struggles stopped, he released her, laying her gently down on the floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing light kisses along her jaw, attempting to calm her. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

"S'okay," she whispered. "Almos' 'ere. C'n fee' it."

* * *

Titus stared out at the calm ocean. They were so close, he could feel it. His skin was buzzing with excitement. It had been so long since he had been there. Not since that damned woman had trapped him all those years ago. And that would not happen again. He would not allow that woman to best him again.

He would win this time, Titus told himself. It would all be his again and there would be no one to oppose him. He would make sure of that.

* * *

Rebecca stared at the waves incredulously, one eyebrow arched and her arms crossed over her chest. "So you," she began, pointing at Jack, "believe that I," she pointed to herself, "can raise an entire island from out there?" she finished, pointing finally out to the ocean.

"It's wonderful, innit?" he asked, grinning.

"I think you're mad," she stated bluntly.

"Aye, I may be," he replied. "But look at the beauty of the situation. You may not be _the_ Chosen, but you are _a_ Chosen."

"You're raving mad."

"I think Jack is right Rebecca," Will interrupted. "This may be the only way."

"But you're telling me that you have to spill _my_ _blood_," Rebecca said, her voice rising up a notch.

"Nothin' much, love," Jack replied. "Just a drop at least. The map never specified how much," he paused. "Which reminds me . . ."

His crew stared at him for a moment, then, when he said nothing, looked at each other. "Uncle Jack?" Alex finally said.

Jack jerked slightly at his name. "Eh?"

This caused more looks amongst the crew. "What does it remind you of?" Michel asked.

"Eh?" Jack replied again, perplexed. He shook his head. "Oh, yes. Once the island is revealed, how will it disappear again?"

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked.

"I think," Conway piped up, "he means how will we make it look like the island has not been found?"

"Maybe Skinner won't remember that part," Will suggested.

"No, he's too smart."

"Does it really matter?" Conway asked. "He's not the one we need to worry about. And I don't think Titus is going to care that we made it here first. He'll see it merely as a distraction."

Jack nodded. "Yer right. It doesn't matter. I guess we'll just get to it then."

Rebecca backed away a step. "I never said I would allow you to cut me."

Jack sighed. "Look, as much as it pains me-an' believe me, it does- we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Yer me daughter, I don't want to hurt you."

"I-" she paused, watching him closely, attempting to read his face. "Is it absolutely necessary?"

Jack grinned, knowing she was giving in. "I wouldn't be askin' ya if it wasn't."

Rebecca studied him again, keeping her gaze locked on his. His lips were smiling but she could see that his eyes were not. Jack's eyes were grave, their expression serious. She had never been able to understand the man standing in front of her. While he would say one thing, his eyes would always say something else. He always seemed a contradiction amongst himself.

She sighed. After a moment she looked away, holding out her left hand. "Just do it quick. Please?"

The grin left Jack's face as he took in her somber, pleading expression. He nodded quickly. "Aye," he all but whispered. Taking a small knife from Conway, he took hold of Rebecca's outstretched hand. He led her slowly to the edge of the _Pearl_ and held her hand over the railing.

Jack placed the knife against her palm and closed her fingers over it. Her eyes locked onto his as her fingers hit the cool edge of the blade. He held her gaze and pulled on the knife quickly, trying to inflict as little pain as possible. Jack saw the flinch in her eyes as the blade cut. He smiled at her. "It's over love," he whispered.

A small trail of blood trickled from her hand. Jack watched as the small drops fell from her palm, falling slowly into the blue water. He took a cloth from his pocket, wrapping it quickly around her wound. They waited patiently with bated breath, Conway walking up to stand beside Jack.

At first nothing happened, the water's surface remained untouched, not even a breeze ruffled the sails. Jack's hand gripped the railing almost painfully, his knuckles turning white from his grip.

"It's coming," Conway breathed.

Jack turned to stare at him. He hadn't seen anything, hadn't _felt_ anything, since the blood drops hit the water. Then it happened. The ship began to shake, gently at first but slowly building in cadence. Jack kept his grip on the railing, steadying himself as the ship shook beneath his feet. Shouts echoed on the deck, relaying orders to each crew above and below. Waves crashed into all sides of the ship, the water spraying everyone, soaking their hair and clothes.

"Ah, there she is," Jack said, his eyes watching the bubbling sea.

A spike was the first object seen, rising above the roiling water. The tip of an ancient building appeared next. Intricate carvings, still visible even from the _Pearl_, were etched into the building's face. Rebecca watched with a mixture of awe and horror as more buildings emerged from the water. Each building was perfectly preserved, despite having been buried beneath the waves for so long. Sunlight glistened on ancient pedestals, reflected off of small, cracked mirrors. What looked to be houses, all in various states of disrepair, littered the island.

"It's beautiful," Michel whispered.

"What's the plan Jack?" Will asked.

"Most of us will go ashore," Jack responded, not looking away from the island. "You, Mr. Conway, will go with us. Rebecca will as well. Most of the crew will stay on the ship, same goes for the crew of the _Whisper_. They'll be needed in case of a battle. We'll need to be prepared and stay on our guard. Skinner wasn't a pushover before an' I doubt he is now."

The crew nodded and then set out to ready the ship for battle.

"Make ready the boats," Jack said. "We need to be there as soon as possible."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" the crew called, elated to finally be having some excitement.

* * *

**AN: **I realized something the other night while I was driving home: this story is almost over. I believe that there are only four chapters left. It left me feeling almost empty inside when I realized this. Also, the only reason this chapter is up so soon is because I was able to write it while I was in the doctor's office for a lovely cut on my thumb. That was a lovely day.

**Smithy: **Will and Elizabeth allowed their children to do whatever they wanted. Michel became a blacksmith like his father while Alex decided to join the Royal Navy.

**The DuTchess of Doom: **I'm glad you liked the chapter. And I hope that this chapter wasn't as dark as the others. It'll be at least one chapter that isn't!

**PineAppleLint**Well, she at least has some help! Tristan will always be there for her to help her through this.


	22. Altercations

"_Why are you here, are you listening?/ Can you hear what I am saying?/ I am not here, I'm not listening/ I'm in my head and I'm spinning/ Is this who you are?/ Some sweet violent urge/ A weak fallen man/ With the promise of an end?"_

_Fallen; 30 Seconds to Mars_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Twenty One: Altercations**

"This is going to pose a problem."

"No, it's not."

Skinner turned to him, incredulous. "They're already here. How could that not be a problem?"

Titus laughed at his concern. "Because it does not matter. They will not be able to do anything to stop what is about to happen. No one will."

"I've gone through this before."

"Well then you should be more knowledgeable about how to deal with them, shouldn't you?" Titus asked condescendingly, turning his dark-eyed gaze to Skinner.

Skinner bristled at the question. Titus had a way of talking down to him; talking like he was so much better than him. The last time Skinner had been through this, _he_ had been in control. He had been the one to call the shots before. Now he was just like a silent partner. He had been the one that everyone had seen while Titus remained hidden in the shadows, always watching.

"They'll hide," Skinner said finally. "They'll try ta ambush us once we get ta the cave."

A wry grin crossed Titus' lips. "There's no cave, Captain Skinner." Titus stretched out an arm, pointing to a stone building in the middle of the ruined city that rose into the skyline. "It will be there, in that temple. What other place would be as fitting as the Temple of Chronos? That is where it will be. That is where you will find your treasure."

Skinner watched Titus as he spoke. The way his jaw clenched as he mentioned the treasure did not sit right with Skinner. There was something else that Titus was not telling him.

* * *

Tristan woke with a jolt, concern crossing his mind as he found the floor next to him empty. He pushed himself up as he searched the small cell. Relief flooded through him as he found Emory sitting across from him, her head resting against the metal bars, her right arm resting atop her bent knee. She was staring at him, her mismatched eyes watching him closely.

"You stayed all night," she stated, her voice soft.

"I couldn't leave you."

Emory nodded slowly. "Thank you," she replied, closing her eyes. "It was . . . comforting."

Tristan stared at her, unsure of what to say. In the entire time he had known her, Emory had never spoken to him in this way. She had always been harsh, disconnected, distant, always too afraid to allow him to get too close. Tristan stood up and made his way over to her. He knelt down, taking hold of the hand resting on her knee. He simply looked at her, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"We're here," she whispered, her eyes flicking to the wall behind him. "They'll be coming for me soon." She looked at him again. "Promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll stay away from the island."

Tristan took a deep breath. "I can't do that."

"Yes you can. I don't want you to be there."

"I have to be. I'm not going to let you go there by yourself. Not with them."

Emory gave an exasperated sigh. "I can take care of myself Tristan. I don't want you there."

"Why? What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"I just-I can't- I won't," she paused, letting out a frustrated groan. Finally her eyes turned back to him, the intensity of her gaze startling him. "I don't want to see you dead!" she blurted.

Tristan stared at her, his brows furrowing. "Is that what you think is going to happen? That's why you don't want me there?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Tristan smiled slightly, cupping her cheek with his free hand. "I'm not going to die," he paused and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "And whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me for life," he paused again a wry smile crossing his face. "However long that might be."

Emory smiled, the first true smile he had seen from her since he had first met her. "It may not be that long. I don't know what's going to happen. And before they come for me I just want to let you know something."

Tristan pressed his forehead to hers, his face only an inch away. "What's that?"

"I'm still mad at you," she replied and closed the distance between them, catching his lips with hers.

* * *

The stillness of the island was unnerving. There was no wind, no movement. The absence of outside noise made Jack nervous. True, he had dealt with cursed islands before, but this one was different. The Past seemed to linger around them. Wisps of people seemed to walk between the broken buildings as if going about their daily business. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that they were being followed, even though there was no one else on the island.

"It's like everyone just disappeared," Michel said, his hand resting on the hilt to his sword. "There are no bodies, no signs of anyone actually leaving. What happened here?"

"The Gods grew angry," Conway answered. "No one actually knows what happened, only that the island disappeared, lost in Time."

"So the people are lost in Time as well? But if the island is here, why aren't they?"

Conway shrugged. "Who knows? Only one Historian dug into the Insula Peritorum's history. The Temple of Chronos is where it is said to have begun. That is where Prisis beat Titus."

"Which is why we're going there," Will stated.

"Yes. It will have to end there."

Jack listened to the conversation, not adding anything to what Conway was saying. He was too engrossed in his own thoughts. He was still feeling unsettled; something was still tugging at the back of his mind. He was sure he was supposed to remember something, but he could not figure out what it was.

* * *

The temple loomed up in front of them, the cracked pillars rising high above them. Arched entryways stood before them, the rooms dark despite the sun shining on them. Jack stopped at the foot of the marble steps and gazed up into the dark temple. It was finally going to be over. Everything. All the pain, the loss, the curse, everything was going to end. It was so close he could almost taste it.

"Why are we stopping?" Rebecca asked as she stopped next to Jack. "Why are we not going in?"

Jack looked over at her after a moment, gazing into her brown eyes. "I don't know," he replied. "Fear, maybe? After everythin' we've been through, I don't know what's goin' ta happen in there. Aren't you a little worried? Don't you wonder what might happen?"

Rebecca stared at him, then up into the temple. "No, I don't," she said softly. "I'm not the Chosen so I try not to think about it. You used my blood to raise the island, that's all," she finished, her words slightly bitter.

"Rebecca-"

"Let's go, shall we?" she interrupted. Before he could reply, she began to climb the steps, her eyes looking nowhere else but at the dark doorway into the temple.

Jack watched her climb, something akin to admiration for his daughter echoing in his eyes. She had spirit and courage, he would give her that. Jack placed one foot on the bottom step, his heart pounding in his chest. He shook his head, shaking away his fear and doubt. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slowly, step-by-step, he climbed, his eyes never leaving the doorway, a sense of foreboding building in his gut.

They walked as a group, each person holding onto the handles of their various weapons, their eyes scanning each dark corner and every shadowed doorway. Shivers ran down spines as a stiff, cool breeze blew from somewhere in front of them. Gibbs' eyes widened, his superstitious mind getting the better of him.

"This wind bodes ill, Cap'n," he said, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. "I don't think we should be here."

"Old ghosts," was Jack's simple, nonchalant reply.

"Doesn't make me feel any better," Gibbs mumbled.

* * *

AnaMaria stared off into the distance, her eyes scanning the vast horizon. Behind her was anchored the _Silent Whisper_, the woman known as Destiny standing at the helm. The _Whisper_'s crew was ready for anything, as were the crew of the _Pearl_. There had been no wind since the island appeared, only a light breeze that did not even ruffle the sails.

AnaMaria hated this part, she hated waiting. She would rather be in the thick of it. She would rather be right there with her captain making sure that this hell was going to be over. They had all been through too much, seen too much, and she knew that she was not the only one glad that it was about to be over.

She turned to look behind her, expecting, _hoping_, to see a new ship appear on the water so that the battle royale could begin. AnaMaria was itching for a fight. She wanted the bastards to come so that she could bury them in the waves for everything they had put them through.

"Where are you, you bastards?" she seethed, her eyes going to the island. She worried for her captain and crewmates. There was no telling what was going on on the island; no telling if they had fallen into some ancient trap. "Be safe, Captain," she whispered, her attention once again going to the ocean around her.

* * *

Emory was sitting up in the tiny lifeboat doing her best not to reveal the pain that she felt. Every so often, however, her body would betray her and she would hunch over, the pain overwhelming her senses. When she would sit back up she would see Titus grinning at her, a malevolent glint in his eyes. She knew that the bastard was enjoying her pain; knew that he enjoyed every shudder that passed through her.

"It is almost over, my dear," he stated, his grin widening. "And then everything will be mine. Including," he paused, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek, "you."

Tristan's hand shot out from in front of Emory, grabbing Titus's wrist before he could touch her. "Don't touch her," he growled, his eyes growing hard.

Titus' gaze flicked to Tristan as he wrenched his wrist from Tristan's grasp. The grin fell from his lips as he caught the silent threat emanating from the other man's eyes. Tristan moved slightly, placing his body in front of Emory's, shielding her from Titus. "Don't _ever_ touch her again."

"And what are you going to do?" Titus sneered. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

"I don't care," Tristan shot back. "You will not touch her again while I am around."

"Then I'll just have to remedy that situation, won't I?"

"Your threats don't frighten me."

A trembling hand on his shoulder caused Tristan to glance behind him. Emory's eyes were wide, fear flashing through them briefly. "Enough," she whispered. "Please."

Tristan nodded slowly and turned his attention back to Titus. "We'll finish this later," he promised.

Titus grinned. "Yes, we will."

* * *

The open door at the end of the hall glowed slightly, illuminating the group of men and women standing a few feet in front of it. Jack and Rebecca stood side by side; Will, Alex, Michel and James right behind them. The two pirate crews stood even further away at the foot of the small staircase, frightened by Gibbs' constant talk of bad luck and ill omens.

Nothing could be seen past the glowing doorway, no room was visible to any of them. No treasure could be seen, no one could be seen protecting the doorway. It was as if the building just disappeared through the light; as if the world just stopped being.

"I don't understand," Rebecca stated, rubbing her arms in an attempt to ease the chill that had settled in her bones. "Is this supposed to be it?"

"Dunno," Jack responded. "Maybe."

"Obviously it's a door," Conway stated dryly, "but to where?"

"Dunno," Jack said again.

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Rebecca snapped and stepped forward, her arm outstretched, reaching for the empty doorway.

"You are not the Guardian," a voice called out, causing Rebecca to jump back in alarm. "You may not enter."

Jack's hand went to his sword, unsheathing it slightly. "Who's there?"

"I," the voice said again just as a figure began to appear in the light, walking steadily towards them, "am Clio. Keeper of the Guardian's Riddle and purveyor of the Test."

A woman now stood in front of them, her hair tightly curled in small ringlets, her robes hanging loosely on her thin body, held together by a simple rope belt. She held a rolled up scroll on one hand. Her eyes were glowing as she surveyed the group in front of her. A gentle smile crossed her lips as her gaze settled on Rebecca.

"You," she began, her soft voice reverberating off of the stone walls surrounding them, "are the Equal. You were born not to be the Guardian, the bearer of the map. You should not be here; your life should have been spared."

"Well obviously it hasn't."

Clio's smile turned sad. "For that I am truly sorry."

"There has to be something more for me," Rebecca whispered. "This cannot be all I am here for."

Clio cocked her head to one side slightly, her glowing eyes staring intently in Rebecca's. "You are so much stronger than you believe yourself to be. But your strength lies in your heart. You will touch so many lives, help so many. That, in many ways, is just as important as being the Guardian. Understand that."

Rebecca's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Clio shook her head. "I cannot tell you that; I am sorry."

"We're here-" Jack started, taking a step forward.

"I know why you are here, Jack Sparrow," Clio interrupted, her gaze turning to him. "You have been a Protector of both your wife and daughters for longer than you care to admit. You must understand that this may be something that you cannot defeat."

"I have to see this through," he replied. "No matter what happens, I have to. For Lor."

Clio smiled again. "Then you shall. No matter what happens, you shall be here when it is finished."

* * *

The voices echoed through the wide hallway, reaching the ears of Skinner and his crew. He turned his gaze to Titus, watched as a grin widened on the other man's face. "We should take them out from afar," Skinner said.

Titus shook his head. "No. She will not allow them to be hurt for now. Once the test is complete we will take care of them."

"What're ya talkin' about?" Skinner snapped.

"The Guardian of the Gate," Titus replied calmly. "The Muse of History, Clio. She was charged hundreds of years ago by Chronos to administer a test to the Guardian. If their desires are pure they will pass and receive the treasure as a reward."

"Well then," Tristan whispered, leaning in closer to Emory's ear. "I guess it's a good thing you don't have a pure bone in your body."

Emory gave a scowl mixed with pain. "If it didn't hurt to move, I would punch you," she stated.

Tristan smiled in response. He loved to tease her. And right now it was the only thing he could do to try and keep her mind off of everything that was going on.

"What happens if they don't pass?" one of the pirates questioned.

Titus merely smiled. "That is something we will just have to wait for, isn't it?"

Skinner glared at the other man. Now, more that ever, his distrust in Titus raged. There was _always_ something he was hiding; always one more thing that Titus did not tell him. Of course, Skinner had his own plans. And soon he would put them in action.

* * *

The walk towards the other group of pirates seemed so much longer than it was. Every time Emory took a step the wound in her leg would pound with pain. The throbbing in her head grew steadily worse the closer they got to the other group. She was truly thankful that Tristan was there for her to lean on. And that was something that confused her.

Emory wasn't sure if she would be able to do this 'test' that Titus spoke of. Her vision was blurry; her grip on reality seemed to be slipping. There were so many people around her; so many people that everyone else just walked by without noticing. But Emory noticed them and knew who they were. Men, women, and children who had died hundreds of years ago, their souls trapped on this island, never able to move on.

"Em?" Tristan whispered. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "I can hear them. Sparrow and the others. They're up ahead."

Tristan's head shot up to look ahead of them, his eyes barely able to make out the other group of pirates in the dim light. "Why are they just standing there?"

Emory shook her head again. "I don't know."

* * *

Clio's head tilted slightly, her glowing eyes focused on something over Jack's shoulder. "She has arrived," she said, her low voice bouncing off the stone walls.

Jack turned around quickly, his eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. His hand covered the hilt of his sword the moment he could make out the group of men walking towards them. Skinner was at the head of the group, his scarred face smiling up at them. Jack scanned the crowd behind Skinner, looking for the only important face in the crowd.

His heart thumped in his chest the second he caught sight of Emory. Bandages covered what little he could see of her. Her eyes, her odd, multicolored eyes, were dim and drowning in pain. She was leaning heavily on Tristan; barely able to walk even with his help. Jack could feel anger build in his body, causing his muscles to tense up. He could feel Conway beside him tensing up as well, anger emanating off of him in thick tendrils.

"There will be no fighting here," Clio said beside him, her voice carrying to the men in front of them. "Whosoever breaks this rule will suffer a painful death."

Skinner's smile merely widened. "Oh ya won't 'ave any problems with me," he spat out. He raised his left arm up and gestured behind him. "Bring 'er 'ere son."

Jack's eyes flicked back to Tristan, confusion filtering into his gaze. "Son?"

Skinner laughed. "Aye. Ya 'ad my son with ya the entire time an' didn't know it. Ain't life a bitch?"

Jack's retort died on his lips as Emory and Tristan walked to the front of the group. Close up she looked even worse than she did from far away. He could now see the bruises littering her body; could now see the blood encrusted on her clothing.

"Oh my God," he heard Rebecca hiss beside him. Will grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, offering her as much comfort as he possible could.

"She'll be alright," he whispered. "She's strong."

"That's what she'd like you ta think," Skinner bit out.

"You are the Guardian?" Clio asked, her glowing eyes landing solely on Emory.

"Yes," Emory replied, and then added, "Unfortunately."

"Come closer Guardian. Are you prepared?"

Emory gave a snort of laughter. "Not really. But I don't have a choice, do I?"

Clio merely smiled.

Tristan began to help Emory up the stairs when a hand slammed into his chest, stopping him. He looked up into his father's dark eyes. "Stand back boy. I'll take her from here."

"No," Tristan stated bluntly.

"Don't argue with me boy."

"Tristan," Emory interrupted. She broke away from him and walked a few steps ahead. She began to climb the few steps as Skinner stepped up to her. She hissed as he grabbed her arm and yanked her forward.

"Hurry it up wench. We 'aven't got all day."

Emory didn't respond. Her eyes were set on Clio, her mind trying to ignore the many souls watching them. Jack and his crew moved aside as they climbed, honoring Clio's spoken rule. There would be no fighting. At least not anytime soon.

Clio unrolled the scroll in her hand the moment they stopped in front of her, Skinner one step behind Emory. "You must pass one test Guardian. If you pass you shall receive the ultimate gift of Time. Are you prepared?" she asked again.

"Yes."

Clio smiled again. "Good. Then we shall begin. You must first answer my riddle."

"First?" Emory asked. Clio ignored her, instead turning to the parchment in her hand.

"Listen closely to your clues:

I am the increase of ages,

The withering of stone.

I am the passing of tides,

The wilting of flowers.

I am the erosion of sands,

The birth and death of civilizations.

I am the dying of oceans,

The epoch of the cursed.

The Alpha and Omega.

Who am I?"

Emory stared at the muse, her eyes searching her still smiling face. The clues soared through her mind, the words forming and reforming. "The increase of ages," she whispered. "The Alpha and Omega."

Her eyes grew distant as she focused solely on the riddle. The world around her disappeared. No one and nothing existed save for the one answer she needed. A sudden ticking began to sound in her mind as she pondered. A ticking that sounded almost like a . . .

"Clock," she suddenly whispered. Emory jerked her head up as realization dawned on her. The answer that had been on the tip of her tongue the entire time was finally uttered. "Time."

Clio closed her scroll, her glowing eyes shining a little brighter for a brief moment. "You have answered the riddle, Guardian. You may enter." Clio stepped away from the doorway, lifting one hand to gesture behind her. "Your treasure, your gift, is through this door. You must enter now. Alone."

Emory's gaze snapped to Clio's. "What's behind that door? Why do I have to go alone?"

Clio merely smiled, her arm still raised in the air, one long, slender finger pointing at the doorway. Emory started forward but stopped as Skinner's grip tightened. She turned around quickly, her eyes staring up into his. Emory saw the flicker of deceit flash in his eyes. "The treasure is mine," he hissed. Before she could move, before anyone could move, Skinner shoved her aside and ran up the stairs. Jack caught Emory as she fell backward, holding onto her as tightly as he could without hurting her any more than she already was.

Clio stepped in his way, attempting to block his path. "You may not enter! You are not the Guardian!"

Skinner merely sneered and swerved around her. Victory swelled in his chest as he reached the doorway. He had finally won. Titus be damned. It was all his.

A heavy feeling began to build in his gut as he stepped through the door as if someone had filled him with shot from his canon. A ripping sound made its way through to his confused mind, followed soon after by an extreme pain that forced a piercing scream to tear from his throat.

* * *

The group of pirates, friends and enemies alike, watched in horror as Skinner's flesh was torn from his body. Muscle and sinew dissolved and fell as if they were sand falling from a loose grip. His screams continued until there was nothing left but bones and ashes. Rebecca covered her mouth as the pile of bones broke into pieces, splintering until there was nothing left but dust.

The group stood still until Clio turned back to them, raising her hand once again and pointing at Emory. "You must enter now, Guardian. Claim your gift."

Emory stared up at her and then turned to Jack. "Let me go," she said slowly. "I have to finish this."

"Em-" he started and then stopped. He stared at her, taking in the look of steely resolve in her eyes. His grip on her loosened, allowing her to stand on her own. "Be careful love."

Emory nodded quickly and then stepped forward, keeping her back stiff, attempting to walk as steadily as she could. With one last look at the people behind her she walked into the glowing door. The sound of the first sword being drawn came the moment she disappeared.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry that this has been delayed. I can't believe it's been two months since I updated. I think it's just that the closer I get to the end, the harder it is to write because I just don't want to let it go. So I guess we're down to the final countdown. Only three chapters to go. Thanks to all my reviewers for sticking with me until the end. All of you have really been awesome! 


	23. Imagined Realities

"_Life's just a dream on the way to death."_

_Sarah; Crow: City of Angels_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Twenty Two: Imagined Realities**

The splash of cold water woke her abruptly. Emory bolted up on the mattress, shaking her head harshly to remove the water that was currently dripping down her face and seeping into her clothes. "What the _hell_ was that for?"

"Sunrise was hours ago," the masculine voice replied, a hint of annoyance. "So get yer ass out o' bed and up deck. Yer my daughter and I love ya, but so help me-"

"Alright," she sputtered, swinging her legs off the mattress. "I understand. I'll be up there in a moment."

"You've got five minutes lass. After that I'm comin' back," Jack replied, and walked out of the small room, closing the wooden door behind him.

Emory stood up slowly and stretched her arms over her head, letting out a groan as her back popped. She walked over to the small wash basin and dipped her hands into the cold water. Emory gazed up into the small cracked mirror as she wiped her face, taking in the soft brown eyes and dark hair. She had definitely taken after her father. She looked nothing like her mother who had fiery red hair and dark gold eyes.

A flash of gold caught her attention, drawing her gaze over the reflection in the mirror. Her brow creased in consternation. A gold eye? Emory blinked, her image returning to normal, leading her to believe it had been nothing but a figment of her imagination. She shook her head. "I'm goin' crazy." She muttered. With one last look in the mirror, she exited her room and made her way above deck.

* * *

"I think father was ready to kill you."

Emory rolled her eyes. "The worse he woulda done would be ta throw me overboard. You know he'd never harbor actual thoughts of killing us."

Rebecca laughed. "Me? No. You? I'm not so sure. You've pushed him quite a lot recently."

Emory pulled on the rope, tying it tightly. She looked up, her eyes staring off into the distance, a soft breeze rustling her hair. "I'm just, I don't know, restless."

Rebecca stared over at her, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the railing. "Restless?"

Emory shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels different. _I _feel different. Something doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

Emory shook her head. "I've been having weird dreams; seeing things that aren't there. I just feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Well, you do take after our father," Rebecca replied, smirking.

Emory gave a snort of laughter. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

* * *

Jack watched from the helm as Rebecca and Emory worked, laughing and talking. He was lucky, he knew that. He had more than most of the pirates that he knew. He had a family, a crew, he had his ship. His life was perfect. After all of the hardships they had gone through, their lives had finally come together and settled down. Well, as much as a pirate's life could settle.

But now it was somehow changing. Emory was changing. It was subtle things. A far off look in her eyes. Her mind wandered constantly. Something wasn't right. She was changing and it didn't feel right. There was something unsettling about the way she was acting.

"What are you thinking love?" a voice behind him asked. He felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist from behind and a kiss was brushed against his neck.

Jack's eyebrows rose slightly as he jerked his chin towards Emory. "She seems different."

"Why don't you try talking to her?"

Jack turned around, taking his wife into his arms. "She never makes it easy. She dodges questions; turns conversations she doesn't like to somethin' else."

Lor's lips quirked up into a smile. "She takes after you."

"Is that a good thing?"

Lor shrugged. "It can be. You just need to talk to her Jack. Find out what's bothering her."

Jack sighed. "She won't tell me."

"How do you know?" Lor replied, ever the voice of reason. "Just try."

Jack sighed again and nuzzled Lor's throat, placing soft kisses against her tanned skin.

* * *

Emory's eyes were closed against the vision in front of her. She was alone in the galley except for the cook. And yet she wasn't. There were many people around her, laughing and jeering as they ate and drank. She could feel them, touch them, but she knew they weren't real.

She could hear a storm raging topside even though she knew it was the clearest day they had had in weeks. Emory covered her ears and hunched over the table, squeezing her eyes closed tighter. It was too much. She didn't understand any of this. Why was everything so different?

"What's wrong Em?" a voice said beside her. She clutched her ears tighter. A pair of hands grabbed hers, attempting to pull them away from her ears. "Em."

"No," Emory whispered. "Nononononono."

He pulled harder, finally succeeding in removing her hands from the sides of her head. "Em," he said again. Emory ignored him, keeping her eyes closed. His hand found her chin and turned her to him. "Captain Wyatt."

Emory's eyes shot open. For a moment she saw him. Soft grey eyes framed by unruly brown hair. She felt the soft brush of his lips on hers and then he was gone, nothing but a wisp of a memory. Emory stared at the spot he had been, her hand going to her still tingling lips.

"Emory?" the cook called out. "Ye okay lass?"

Emory's gaze shot up to his. "Yes. Yes I'm fine. Just tired."

"Per'aps ye should get some sleep." He joked.

She laughed. "Try telling that to my father," she replied, standing up and walking away from her table. "I'll see you later," she called, raising one hand and waving behind her.

* * *

Lor watched Emory stagger out of the galley. She looked drawn and tired, her eyes unfocused and dim. Emory's mind never seemed to be there anymore. And that worried her.

* * *

The sound of a distant explosion forced Emory to bolt up in her bed. Her eyes searched the room frantically. "It's not real," she whispered. "It's all in my head."

Another explosion caused her to jump out of bed, tossing the blankets off in the process. She ran from the room, throwing the door open and cringing as she heard it bang into the wall. She ran as fast as she could up to the deck, her wide eyes gazing around the ship. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

A sudden flash to her left drew her attention out to sea. Emory ran to the railing, her eyes watching as each flash illuminated the ships that were firing them. Explosions rocked the ships, the splashes in the water bursting into the air.

"Emory love?" a voice behind her called. "What's wrong?"

Emory didn't answer, her eyes still glued to the battle raging in front of her. "Emory," the voice called again, followed by a hand on her shoulder. "Darling what is it?"

"Don't you see it?" Emory finally whispered. "Why are they fighting? We should help them."

Lor's eyes flicked to the dark, empty ocean. "Emory, there's nothing out there."

"Yes there is!" Emory snapped. She raised her arm, pointing out to sea. "Right there! I can see them!"

Lor's eyes grew concerned. Slowly, she wrapped an arm around Emory's shoulders. "Emory, sweetheart, there's nothing there. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No!" Emory cried and broke free from her mother's embrace. A sudden bout of dizziness tore through her. The explosions still rocked through her body. "No . . . I can . . . they . . . it's not . . ."

Lor watched as Emory crumpled to the deck. She grabbed her before she hit the deck, falling with her and holding her tightly as she knelt down. "Em? Em love, wake up," she said softly as she patted Emory's cheek.

"Miss Lor?" Bones, the night watchman, said next to her.

"Get Jack," Lor replied, worry crossing her face, tears welling in her eyes. "Jack," she said as Bones ran to the captain's quarters.

"JACK!" she screamed as panic broke through her mind.

* * *

_They were fighting. All of them. Their swords rang out as they clashed. Angry yelling echoed in her ears as she watched. Everything was so bright; so blurry. She couldn't make out the forms of the people. Emory clenched her fists, only then realizing that she held something._

_Emory lifted her arm, bringing the object to eye level. A single silver armlet was clutched tightly in her right hand. Her eyes flicked back up to the fight in front of her. "Is this what you're all fighting over?" she mused, her voice resonating in the empty space. "That just seems so silly."_

"_Emory."_

_Her head jerked around, the worried faces of her family hovering behind her. She wondered, for a moment, what they were so worried about. And then she remembered. The ships had been fighting; explosions had echoed through the night. Then she had collapsed._

"_Emory, you have to wake up," her mother whispered._

_The fighting before her began to disappear and she closed her eyes, the brightness dissipating around her.

* * *

_

She was groggy. Her head hurt; her eyes burned. A hand clutching hers squeezed gently as a moan escaped her throat. "Emory, are you all right?"

Emory's eyes opened slowly, blinking quickly against the bright light of the lamp above her and to clear her fuzzy vision. "Emory?" Jack called.

Emory sat up despite Lor's protests. "Yes. I'm fine," she whispered. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure," she responded, opening her eyes again and turning to look at Lor.

Lor's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed as she gazed at Emory and then turned to Jack. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "Jack."

Jack's gaze turned to Emory, his eyes taking in her face.

"You're different," Rebecca said. "You don't look . . ."

Emory's gaze snapped up to Rebecca's. "What are you talking about?"

"Your eye," Rebecca answered. "It's changed."

Emory jumped out of bed, pushing past Lor and Jack, making her way to the cracked mirror hanging on her wall. The face staring back at her was different. A pair of mismatched eyes, lighter colored hair. Her face seemed harder, not as calm as it had been before.

"What are you holding?" Jack asked. "Where did you get that?"

Emory looked down at the simple silver armlet clutched in her hand. Images suddenly swam through her mind. Images of people she didn't know yet recognized. Images of fights that she knew were caused by this simple piece of jewelry. She lifted her head, her eyes looking at each person standing around her. Each of them unexpectedly seemed so alien to her.

"This isn't right," she whispered, stepping back, trying to put as much space between the three people and herself. "This is wrong."

And then the world around her shattered.

* * *

**AN: **Oh wow. It has been four months since I last updated. I am so sorry that it has taken me that long. It's just been really crazy. I've been promoted at work, I've been sick half a dozen times, and life has just kinda blown. But, I've updated now, so it's all good right? Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. I know it's shorter than normal, but I couldn't put anymore in it. And I know that it's not the best chapter, but I promise that the next two (which will be the last two, I'm sad to say) will be longer and better.

Let me know what you think!


	24. Time

"_Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh, and cruel. But that's why there's us-champions. Doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world is as it should be, to show it what it can be."_

_~Angel; Angel_

Demon Called Deception

**Chapter Twenty Three: Time**

Destiny stood silently at the aft. Her dark eyes stared at the burning wreckage of the _Devil's Shadow_, the flames glittering in her dark pupils. A sense of satisfaction tore through her as she watched the ship sink to the watery depths. Her right hand clutched her left arm, cradling the wounded arm to her stomach.

The _Silent Whisper _and the _Black Pearl_ had both come out of the battle mostly unscathed. No deaths that she was aware of and only minor injuries. The _Shadow_ had had no chance against two of the greatest pirate ships in the Caribbean. Destiny's eyes turned to the island. She couldn't hear anything from the island. She had no way of knowing if everyone was all right.

All she had was her hope and her trust in her captain.

* * *

Titus was laughing. Oh, how he was laughing. Everything had worked out to plan. Everything he had ever lived for; everything he had come _back _for was about to come true. Oh, how he loved deception. Skinner had played his part perfectly, distracting the pirates from the real enemy in their midst. No one had even suspected that there could possibly be someone else watching them; that there could be someone else pulling their strings.

A surge in the air around him drew his attention away from the battle raging in front of him. Soon there would be no more of Skinner's men. Sparrow's crew was holding their own.

Titus's smile grew wider as he saw the doorway begin to glow again. Yes. All of his plans were working perfectly. Soon Prisis's descendant would come through that door and then it would all be his. Everything that he used to control; everything that he used to rule would be his again.

And now it wouldn't just be this measly island that he controlled. Now it would be everything. The world would bow at his feet. That bitch of a captain would wait on him hand and foot. What he couldn't get from her ancestor he would get from her. Titus already knew how strong she was and he was looking forward to breaking her; taking her pride and spirit. She would do nothing but live for _him_.

A form materialized in the entrance, the glow from the doorway casting their features in shadows. Titus laughed again and turned his gaze to the people fighting below. Oh yes it was all about to end. And he knew exactly how to end it.

* * *

Emory walked slowly. Her mind was reeling. There had been too much to find out; too much to absorb. What had they shown her? Why had it been shown to her? Was it just to play games with her? Was it just all part of the test she had to take? It had been so peaceful. A vision of something that a part of her deep down had always wanted but had always denied: a family of her own; something that she had never had.

Emory looked down at the object she was carrying. It was such a tiny piece of jewelry; such a thin piece of metal. It was hard to believe that everyone was fighting over this; that _this_ was what everyone coveted. What a silly thing to cherish.

Even as Emory thought this she knew that it wasn't something to just hand away. It was powerful. She felt as if electricity was running through her fingers and coursing through her veins. Her skin hummed as if covered with tiny bolts of lightning. Every piece of her felt whatever it was course through her. She felt as if she were everywhere and yet at the same time nowhere. So many things were visible to her now.

She felt as if time around her was colliding and separating at the same time. The past merged with her present; tomorrow played with yesterday and touched upon today. Visions of what had happened and what might occur all played in her mind's eye. Time was hers now. Emory frowned slightly at the thought. No. She belonged to Time and it was a master she would serve well.

A sudden image noticed at the corner of her eye caused her breath to catch in her throat. A vision of something that had yet to transpire. "No," she whispered. And then she was running down the few stairs, her eyes intent only on one person.

Tristan kicked out with his right foot, sweeping his opponent's feet out from under him. The man fell with a thud, his head jerking back with a crack as it hit the stone of the temple. He had noticed the flash moments before. She was back. Emory was back. Tristan smiled to himself and stabbed his sword into the man's chest. He looked up at the now dim doorway and caught Emory's eye. A perplexed look crossed her face for a moment before a look of horror replaced it.

He watched as she launched herself off of the stairs, running towards him. Tristan watched her for a moment, confused until he felt the shock of pain pierce through his chest. Though numbness had begun to course through his body he felt as a hand wrapped itself around his throat from behind and jerked his head back. "She will watch as you die," a voice said in his ear just as the sword was shoved deeper into him.

From the bottom of his eyes he could see the tip of the sword pierce the front of his chest. He bit back the scream as the sword was yanked back out and the hand that had been around his neck disappeared. Tristan stared down at the blooming crimson beginning to stain his shirt. He couldn't breath. He coughed as he tried to make his lungs function. Tristan crumpled to his knees, his legs no longer able to sustain his weight. Everything had become so cold.

Tristan barely felt the abrasion form on his cheek as he hit the floor, his blood pooling out below him. But he felt the warm hand touch his back, felt the terror coursing through those thin, shaking fingers as they clutched the course shirt he wore. "Tristan," the soft voice whispered, almost drowned out by the swords and gunfire around them. "Tristan answer me!"

He coughed again and attempted to lift himself up but his arms held no strength. A bout of sad laughter met his ears. "Don't try to get up, you idiot."

"No," he whispered, his voice muted. "Want . . . want to see . . ."

"What?"

"You," he breathed.

The hand clenched tighter on his shirt and then another hand pulled on his good shoulder, lifting him up slightly to turn him over. Emory placed his head on her lap and brushed the hair from his eyes. Tristan gazed up at her, her face blurred. He thought he caught a trickle of something down her cheek. "Are you crying?" he asked.

She chuckled. He knew it was one of pain. "You know I don't cry. Are you trying to say I've grown soft?"

A sad smile crossed his lips. "Always trying to be so strong," he whispered. He lifted one hand slowly and touched her cheek, his own blood smearing on her skin slightly. "Don . . . don't be . . . afraid to cry."

"Don't talk," Emory said quietly, leaning over him, her lips hovering over his. "Everything will be fine."

With a last surge of strength, Tristan twisted his fingers through her hair and pulled her the last few inches to his face. He kissed her roughly, holding her to him. He closed his eyes as he let her go, pushing her away slightly. "Don't be afraid to show emotion," his voice was barely above a sigh. "And don't ever forget that I . . . I have _always_ loved you."

Emory stared down at him, wide eyed. No. He would not do this. He would not leave her like this! His grip on her neck relaxed, his hand falling down, his fingers brushing her skin as they fell. She clenched her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears that she knew were threatening to spill. "I love you too," she whispered, touching her forehead to his.

"Isn't this a sad sight."

Emory jerked up at the voice. She shifted slightly, laying Tristan's head on the hard ground and then whirled to her feet, her hands reaching for weapons that weren't there. "I'll kill you," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Titus merely laughed. "Oh that's been tried before. Prisis failed so what makes you think that you can succeed where she didn't?"

"I am not Prisis."

A grin crossed his face. "Oh but you are. I see her look in you. Everything you say and do mimics her," Titus stepped closer to her. "But your future will be different. You will be mine."

Emory felt her hands begin to shake. She wanted to kill this man. She wanted to destroy him for everything that he had done and everyone that he had hurt. She could still feel the tears behind her eyes but now they were no longer tears of hurt, but tears of anger. Emory would not let him get away with what he'd done.

"You will give me the treasure," he whispered, making her jump, her hand clenching tighter around the armlet. How had he gotten so close without her noticing? "You will give it to me or I will kill everyone that you care about. I will destroy what little happiness you have made for yourself in your sad little life. And I will start with your father."

Emory flinched away from Titus' touch and words. She needed a weapon. "No," she said, turning her gaze to stare in his eyes. "I am going to kill you where you stand."

"No. You will do as I say. You will obey me or I will make you suffer."

Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for any weapon around her that she could use. Finally her eyes settled on the sword laying just to the left of her. _Tristan's sword. _A pain coursed through her. A flash of loss that she had never felt, never _wanted_ to feel, surged through every bone, every pore in her body. She mentally shook her head. She needed to stay focused. She needed to pay attention to the task at hand.

Killing the bastard standing in front of her before he could kill anyone else.

"So are you going to be a good little girl and do what I tell you to?" Titus asked as he pressed closer to her, one finger tracing her jaw line.

"Not on your life you son of a bitch," she snarled and then punched him in the side, pushing him away. She swiveled on her feet, bending at the waist to pick up the sword beside her. Her fingers brushed the sword, her hand was almost around the hilt when the gunshot rang out; when the gunshot drew her up short.

Emory looked up and met the angry glare radiating from Titus. A sadistic grin crossed his lips as she watched. Her breath hitched in her throat as she followed the line of the pistol. She found Jack just in time to see him start to crumple. "Dad!" she yelled, not even realizing she had. At the same time another voice called out, "Jack!"

Emory jumped to her feet and started to run towards him but was stopped by a rough grip on her arm; a grip that swung her back around. Before she lost sight of him she saw Will kill the men he was fighting and turn to Jack's side, catching the captain before he fell. But it was too late. She knew it was. It was always too late.

"Now do you see you stupid bitch? Do you see what happens when you disobey me? Now give me what I want or I swear I will pick them all off one by one until there is no one left."

Her mind was blank. She could see nothing, hear nothing, _and feel_ nothing. Everything and everyone was lost. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't save anyone. He would win. Emory could feel the tears roll down her cheeks and it was a foreign feeling. She had not cried since her mother had died fifteen years earlier

"Captain! Captain get a hold of yourself! This is not over yet!"

Conway's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. This wasn't like her. She was not one to give up. She did not give in this easily. She would fight. She would kill the bastard. She would make him suffer like never before.

Titus shook her hard. "Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying?"

Emory's gaze flashed up to his, her eyes hardening, the tears drying. "Yes."

"Good. Then give me the treasure. Give it to me and I will spare everyone."

Emory tore free from his grasp, taking a few steps back from him. She raised her arm, holding the armlet out to him, the jewelry hanging from her upraised palm. "If you want it, then take it."

Titus stared at her. He wasn't sure if he could trust her.

"I have no tricks, Titus," she said calmly. "I'm doing what is best for my crew. My family."

His eyes narrowed as he stared in hers, looking for any hint of treachery. Finally, satisfied that she wasn't lying to him, he reached out and took hold of the piece of silver. Emory's grip tightened on it before he could pull away. She yanked him closer to her. "You never learn do you?" she asked, her eyes flashing silver.

Alost immediately time slowed around them, the sounds of the fighting halted. There was no sound, no movements save for Emory breathing. Not even Titus in front of her moved. Her eyes narrowed. She was confused. What was going on?

_You have stopped Time,_ a voice said, coming from nowhere and yet everywhere around her.

Emory's hand dropped from the treasure as she turned around. A tall, glowing man walked towards her, his long silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his white robes hung around his shoulders. He stopped a few feet in front of her, a kind smile on his face. _I remember you. It was long ago, but I remember you. _He spoke, but did not speak. It was as if his words were directly placed into her mind.

"Chronos," she stated.

He nodded his head slightly. _It is a pleasure, child of Prisis. It has been long since I have met someone in my world. Tell me, what do you think of my island? _He asked, sweeping his arm out to encompass their surroundings.

She paused. "I think it was beautiful once."

His smile turned wistful. _It was. _His face turned cloudy, his grey eyes hardening as he turned to look at the frozen form of Titus. _Until this man destroyed everything. His selfishness ruined all that I had worked for._

"And yet you let him live."

_I showed compassion, but it was misplaced. I cursed him to forever watching Time but to never be a part of it. It was when your mother conceived that he broke free. Had no bearer bore twins none of this would have ever happened. Everything would have been safe._

A smile broke across his face as he turned to her. _But I see that you have inherited Prisis's fire. That is why she was chosen to be the first Guardian. I knew that she would protect it with her life._

"And why you cursed her family as well. All of this," Emory swept out her arms. "All of this is happening because of this so called Gift."

Chronos walked towards her, a sad smile on his face. _There are many things that can still not be explained. The reason I did not take back my Gift is one of them._

"For that I have lo-," her voice cracked. Emory could feel the unwanted tears beginning to build pressure behind her eyes again. "For that I have lost _everyone_ I cared about! So many lives have been destroyed because of that bloody item! I have-I-"

Emory crumpled to her knees, physically and mentally exhausted from everything that had transpired. Everything was weighing down on her. She had tried to bear it for so long; tried to hold it all inside for as long as she could. There was no room for a pirate captain with emotions. There was no room for a captain with a weakness. But yet here she was, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and her legs unable to hold her. She was a mess and she hated it.

_You do not have to lose anything, my dear,_ he replied, kneeling down next to her and grasping the bottom of her chin. He lifted her head up slowly so that her eyes would meet his. _All of this can be fixed. Everything that was not meant to be, that was wronged, can be righted._

Emory stared at him, trying to read anything in his grey eyes. When she finally spoke it was in a crushed whisper. "What do you mean?"

His smile was sad. _If you can finish this; if you can finally destroy him once and for all and fix my mistake, then you need not lose anyone. Everyone that has died here; every mistake that has been made will be righted. I can change all of this. None of this needs to have happened. Can you do me this favor?_

"Will everything be changed? Will all of this change?"

Chronos nodded. _I will reset what has happened here. From right after you completed your trial; before he killed your lover. They will live if you can stop him before that happens, if you can finish this. Use this,_ he held up his hand, the armlet suddenly resting in his palm. _Use this and you will be able to stop him._

"How?"

_You will know when the time comes. It is yours by right. Take it._

"What will happen after this is over?"

_You will live your life as you wish. You will protect this Gift, but it will be as if it does not exist. The Gift will become a part of you but you will not change. The ­­­charge I gave Prisis and her family will be lifted. All of this will be over._

Emory nodded slightly, slowly understanding his words. "There will be no map, no curse on my family?"

_No._

Emory lifted her hand, her fingertips barely touching the thin silver armlet. The treasure disappeared instantaneously. She could feel it. She could feel as it traveled up her arm, the tiny tendrils of silver shivered up her veins, wrapping themselves under her skin. Emory gasped as it tugged at her arm, felt a slight pain as it bore into the muscles her upper arm. She looked down once the ache subsided, her eyes tracing the newly made vine-like design on her bicep.

"What is this?"

A hand on her head was all that was her answer. _Finish this my child._

With that she felt her body go weightless. Everything around her was moving, going in reverse. All the events that had transpired were playing back around her. She felt a pull in her chest as her eyes scanned over the staircase on the other side of the temple. Emory closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It was all going to be over soon. When she reopened her eyes she was once again standing at the top of the stairs, everyone back where they were before she had exited the doorway.

With a sudden surge the people started to move again; the sounds of fighting bombarded her ears. Emory's gaze snapped across the room to where she knew Tristan stood. She watched as he fought against his own foe; watched as he swept the man's feet out from under him. She watched as Titus' form materialized behind him and she knew with every fiber of her being that if she didn't move then she would be too late.

Emory also knew with dead certainty that she would not make it to him even if she ran as fast as she could.

"No," she whispered, "not again." She felt the tug in her chest again as she waited for what was coming. She wouldn't let him die. Not again. The tug grew stronger, making her feel as if someone was grabbing her from the inside, grabbing hold of everything inside of her, and pulling with all of their might. _I won't let him die again._

And then she was next to him. Acting on reflex, moving without ever realizing she had, Emory pulled the dagger from Tristan's belt and slammed it into Titus's chest, getting to him before he could even register she was there.

His shocked eyes turned to look into hers, taking note of the steely calm that was held there. Everything faded around her as Emory watched the light begin to dim in his eyes. She held her gaze firm as his own gaze drifted down. "How-?" he began and then caught sight of the marking on her arm. A knowing smile crossed his face. "Ah." He stated and then began to fall back.

Emory's grip loosened on the hilt of the dagger, her fingers already slick with his blood. She felt the soft gust of wind blow through her hair as if a sigh had gone through the room. Emory stared down at Titus's lifeless body, not quite believing that he was dead. A hand touched her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned around to face Tristan, still not quite registering her surroundings.

"How-?" he started but was silenced as Emory grabbed hold of the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. She poured everything she had into that kiss; poured all of her emotions through to him. All of her fear, her anger, her hurt; everything that she was made up of she gave to him.

Tristan could feel her surrender in the way she pressed her body against his, the way her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. Her entire body had relaxed to a point that she had never allowed it to go before. She was giving in to him entirely.

"I thought I had lost you," she whispered against his lips; they were the only words that she had ever uttered that were even close to admitting how she felt about him.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Emory laughed and pulled away. "Not anymore."

A loud crash to their left drew their attention away from the other. The fighting was continuing in front of them, each pirate holding their own in the fight for their lives. "I guess we should help them," Tristan said, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing it for a moment.

"If we must."

* * *

The door in the house flew open, letting in every bit of rain as it blew past. Elizabeth walked out of the kitchen, at first not even registering the shadowy figure standing in the doorway until it was upon her. Not even a scream welled up as the figure grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her to them. She was ready to kick and fight until one word was uttered.

"Elizabeth."

Her eyes grew wide. "Will? Oh God Will."

Elizabeth threw her arms around him, pulling him as close to her as possible. He was soaked to the bone, his clothes dripping puddles onto the wooden floor. Her heart was pounding. She never thought this day would come. She had dreams that he never returned home. Her worry and her doubt had almost gotten the best of her, but she had held out hope that he would return.

"You're back," she whispered, her hands fluttering over him to find any wounds, any missing pieces.

"We all are."

Elizabeth looked over his shoulder to find Michel and Alex standing in the doorway, Rebecca just behind them. She looked up in Will's eyes, worry etched in her own as she noticed one missing person from their group. "James?" she whispered.

Will smiled. "Home. He went home to see Emily. He's fine."

"Mrs. Turner is everything all right?" Thomas called, stepping out of the kitchen where he and Elizabeth had been sitting. He looked weary, his concern for Rebecca wearing down on him. When he noticed the group standing in the doorway he paused. The next thing he knew he was running down the hallway, pushing past Will and Elizabeth still standing in the hall and pulling Rebecca into his arms.

"Thom- Mr. Norrington," Rebecca stated, stunned.

"I thought I had lost you," he whispered.

"It's, um, it's all right. I'm all right."

He pulled back, seemingly oblivious to the people around him. "You're not hurt?"

Rebecca smiled. "Bruised mostly. There were others much worse off than I am."

"Jack?" Elizabeth asked after she had hugged her two sons tight. "I don't see Jack."

Will sighed. "Jack and Emory have already set sail. They said-at least Jack said- that they will be back. All we have to do," he said, turning her around to where she could see vague outlines of two ships sailing away and wrapping his arms around her from behind, "is keep a weather eye on the horizon."

* * *

**AN: **It has been a long absence. Too long for my tastes really, but I have had issues writing. I did not want to write this chapter due to the fact that the next chapter will be the last. This chapter, honestly, is dedicated with a big heartfelt thanks to Grumblebear who, without her this would have never been finished. She is the one who urged me to complete this, even though she has never read it, because I will feel accomplished at having finished it. I think she was just tired of hearing me complain about my writer's block! J


	25. Epilogue

**AN: **Before we get on to this, the final chapter of Demon Called Deception, I would like to say thank you to everyone who stuck by me for as long as it took to complete this. All of you were awesome and really helped me out. This is a short chapter merely because it is an epilogue closing up the story line. It wraps everything up and, hopefully, will leave all of you with a feeling of satisfaction. I know it did for me! Once again, thank you all for sticking by me for so long!

"_Every story has an end." ~Tristran; King Arthur_

Demon Called Deception

**Epilogue**

The storm topside was so similar to the one years before, Jack noted as he stepped off of the life boat and onto the swaying _Silent Whisper._ He thanked the man who helped him over the railing and then smoothed the front of his shirt. He had known this day was coming and had dreaded it. This was never a day to be looked forward to despite its good intentions.

It had been five long years since the _Insula Peritorum _and everything was progressing as it should be. Jack and his crew had started aging shortly after the events. Now they all looked to be their correct ages.

Jack himself still looked quite good if he did say so himself. The strands of gray hair merely added to his roguish good looks. Even the wrinkles beginning to line his weathered face did nothing to detract from his features.

Gibbs had retired to a small house on the outskirts of Tortuga. He had sailed for most of his life, as pirate and navy, and had finally decided that he was too old to be of any use on the ship. Jack did not like losing his friend, but understood his reasons for leaving. He still visited him of course. Who could pass up a good trip to Tortuga?

Rebecca had finally married the Norrington boy two years before. The wedding had been beautiful. Her white dress had been inlaid with gold trimming; the train flowed behind her, carried by her little nephew. Jack had seen the silver bracelet that had belonged to her mother on her left wrist. He had watched from the shade between two buildings, careful not to be seen. He had been glad to see Will walk her down the aisle. If he couldn't do it then there was no else better.

They had gotten to know each other in the last few years. Rebecca had come to accept him as her father and had even grown to see him as more than just a pirate. She often asked about her mother as well; simple questions about Lor's life and family and the way that she had lived. Rebecca still lived her normal life and Jack was happy for that.

Jack paused at the doorway to the lower decks, the rain soaking through his clothes and skin. He did not want to descend those stairs. Too many bad things occurred the last time he had done so on a day like this. His heart thudded in his chest as his mind turned back to the past. He shook his head, attempting to push away the horrible memories that always surfaced.

Jack knew that he needed to go down there. He had known this day was coming for awhile and he knew she would want him there. He looked around the ship for a moment and then stared up into the darkened sky, the rain drops hitting his face, trying to find some peace of mind, some hope that all would be well.

There was no moon tonight. Gibbs would say that was a bad omen; that some bad moment would come later. A smile crossed Jack's lips despite his feeling of dread. He could always count on Gibbs' way of thinking to cheer him up.

The door swung open before Jack could touch it. Conway blinked up at him and then a wide grin crossed his face. "It's good to see you Cap'n Sparrow!"

The smile and good cheer strengthened his hope that all was well. "Is it over?" he asked, stepping around Conway into the small walkway.

Conway shook his head. "No, sir. Destiny and Tristan are in with her now. Doc says it won't be long though."

They stopped outside of the doctor's door, the strained sounds coming from inside the room a good sign, even if a small one.

"How long?"

"Been several hours at least. Don't know how Tristan's dealt wit her until now. She's been almost unbearable. Especially when she wasn't able to move around as much," Conway chuckled. "We thought Doc was goin' to be murdered when he ordered bed rest."

Jack laughed. "Her mother was the same way. She was a terror the last month."

Another groan came from the room, causing their attention to once again seek out the door, silence echoing between them. A strangled cry soon followed. Jack felt his heart start to pound again at the sound. He hated that sound.

Jack remembered the last time he heard a cry like that; the last time there was a night like this. That night did not leave fond memories.

The sound of hurried movements and strained, whispered voices came after the strangled cry of pain. Jack's thoughts flashed back to twenty five years before; the strangled cry followed by the wailing of a newborn babe. The single worst moments of his life, and the single best.

The wail started seconds later. Jack's tension mounted, taking hold of his mind with iron-like claws. His feet wanted to run. His body wanted to turn away from the disaster he knew was coming. And he wanted no part of it. He did not want to be witness to this. Not again.

"It'll be okay Cap'n Sparrow," Conway said, his eyes not leaving the wooden door. "The curse was lifted. Everything will be fine."

Jack tried to take heart with what Conway told him. He tried to believe what he was saying. But it was hard. After everything that he had seen it was so difficult to believe that everything would be okay.

The door opened slowly to reveal Destiny in the doorway, wiping her hands on a cloth. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Jack and then a smile crossed her face. "Ah, you're here Cap'n Sparrow," she said softly. Destiny stepped out of the doorway, leaving it open slightly. "She's been asking for you."

Jack thanked her but hesitated before stepping forward. He still wasn't sure . . .

Finally he entered the room, his eyes adjusting to the small candlelit room. The doctor was to his left, washing his hands in a basin of water. Tristan stood in front of him, leaning over a strangely smiling Emory. He could see the dim outline of the vine marking on her right arm. A reminder of events that only a few knew of and only a few ever would. It was her smile that finally eased his troubled mind.

As soon as he knew everything was well, he walked to her side and leaned in closer. He smiled at the small child nestled in its mother's breast. It was wrapped in a thin blanket, cradled by its father's hand and mother's arms.

Emory's smile widened as she looked up at him, lifting the child slightly. "Meet Jack, your grandson."


End file.
